#may the road rise up to meet you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reverieblondie · 7 months ago

Note

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Astarion with touch starved gn s/o?

I ended up rewriting these a few times but I hope you enjoy reading it! Last Bullet point is NSFW!

Haarlep and Raphael with thouch starved S/O HERE

Halsin

Halsin would never say you were obvious, but figuring out you were touched starved was relatively easy to tell. Especially with the game you were playing, it was clear after the nth time you asked for healing from him from a mere paper cut on your finger. Though, could anyone really blame you? After spending so much time on the road, with no friendly touch for weeks, then when Halsin came to your aid to heal you from a particularly nasty hit from a goblin, That was the start of it, the aching for him; you had been healed by others before but…nobody did healing like Halsin. Most healers hover their hands over you, but Halisn would hold you, pressing his large but tender hands to your skin, letting his healing magic flow through from him to you; the touch would send tingling shivers through you; some would argue that it was from the magic…But you knew it was from his touch. Halsin was more than willing to help heal you every time; in fact, the consent wanting his touch helped you two connect. Halsin hoped you would confess you wanted him to hold you one day. But you never did. So when you came for healing from your “terribly painful stomach ache,” he knew he would have to make the first move. “I think I know the perfect solution to your problem,” he whispered before he wrapped you in a tight hug; every ache and pain melted away from his touch. It is truly the perfect medicine anytime you feel touch starved.

Every party of Halsin is perfection in your eyes. Oak father really did a fantastic job when it came to making him. However, the one place you’re always grabbing onto the most is his arms. It’s not hard to see why; it’s nearly impossible to keep from clinging to his massive limbs, snuggling into them, running your hands over his thick forearms. Halsin, the sweetheart, doesn’t seem to mind your clinging, even if he is busy carving away. Now that Halsin has noticed your fondness for his arms, he may or may not start to flex them subtly when gesturing or wearing shirts that expose them so you can see every slight rippling of his muscles. Halsin will let you cling to him as long as he can nuzzle into his favorite part of you later tonight…

Now usually you’re the needy one in the relationship, pleading for hugs and beaming every time you get wrapped up in Halsins arms. Today has been different, however. It started when you woke up with Halsins hands creasing your sides and snuggling into your neck, of course you melted at the touch, thoroughly relishing in the attention, but it didn’t end there. Usually, Halsin would walk through the woods for some meditation and to gather herbs and materials for you two, but today, he didn’t leave your side. Of course, you loved it, but a part of you was starting to get worried. When you brought it up, he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I just find myself wanting to be near you, my heart.” You squeeze his large hands back, “Well, let me help you, my love.” rising to your tiptoes, you begin to pepper kisses all over Halsins face. He grabs your waist and lifts you to meet his lips with yours quickly; the kiss only makes him needier.

He loves every part of you, from your hair to your adorable toes. But his hands consistently linger on your curves. On those days when you are feeling extra needy. Halsin is more than willing to help…In some inventive ways. The contrast is maddening… The smooth honey slips on top of your heated skin, and then Halsins rough tongue licks up the sticky liquid off your stomach. His hands guide your back to an arch as he keeps his hazel eyes on your moaning face. Sucking and licking as his hands continue to run over your squirming body. Halsin doesn’t know what is sweeter, the honey or you; he will spend all night trying to figure it out.

Zevlor

Zevlor has been around for a while but was never too familiar with the term ‘Touched starved.’ Sure, he had heard it back in his commander days from soldiers whispering about needing attention of the flesh but never truly gave it too much thought…until. The idea came to him when he noticed a particular trait of yours. You had no special awareness when it came to him. Consistently, you were leaning into him quite closely, and when you two walked around during perimeter checks, you would often bump into him or brush your hand against his. Of course, you would apologize for your clumsiness, but deep down, you knew what was happening…Your body was burning for him, his warmth, his touch, and it was seeking it out in any way possible. It didn’t click so quickly for Zevlor until he saw you sparing, and there was no inclination of any clumsiness in your movements; even with others, he never saw you bump or run into anything; your movements were precise and calculated…and that’s when he figured it out you were touching him purposely. Zevlors first thought was, why? Then his second was how can he tell you to only ask him for his touch. Finally, one day, as you two were doing your usual perimeter check, you slowly inched closer and closer to him, seeking the slight relief of his touch. Still, as you went to bump into him for only a moment, you found the ex-hellrider wrapped his arms quickly around you keeping you to his warm chest. Eyes wide, you go to apologize, but Zevlor is quick to quiet your worries, “If you need my warmth…please don’t hesitate to ask me…” After that day, you got a hug from him every chance you could…

Zevlor enjoys the sweet intimacy of your relationship. At first, he was not used to someone wanting to hold him so closely and shower him with affection, but slowly, he is getting used to it and enjoying it immensely. Though, you still find ways to surprise him…For example, when you start paying particular attention to his cheeks and horns, you can’t stop wanting to hold his face so tenderly and whisper soft praises to him. “I’ve never seen beauty like yours, Zevy…” he feels his heart melt at every whisper and every gentle touch to his skin. Then, if you happen to caress the base of his horns? Well…you have never heard such a deep pur.

It had been the first day in a long while that you and Zevlor spent most of the day apart. He had promised to speak to some recruits in the city, sharing his wisdom, and you had opted to stay at home. You were expecting him to come home at any minute, so you were working hard to prepare a surprise dinner for him. You missed him being home; usually, you would spend the day working in your small garden together and setting out laundry on the line together. It was lonely without him, so you planned to show him how much you missed him. As you were finishing your stew, you felt arms snaking around your waist. You gasped before his familiar voice eased you, “Be still, my dear, it’s only me…” Your body immediately relaxes as you turn to hug him back. “How was your trip?” Zevlor only hums as he buries his head into your neck. “I missed you…the road was lonely without you by my side…” you rub your hands up and down his arms as they hug you. Then you feel one of his arms part from you and hear the stove turn off; before you can ask anything else, you’re lifted and carried away toward your shared room. “Zev! What- What about Dinner?” “It can wait…I need to be close to you, just for a while…” The stew wasn’t eaten until much later…

“So beautiful…” his breath is warm as he whispers the complement into your neck. Zevlor’s lips caress your tender skin as he moves to your ear. You cling to his broad shoulders tighten, and your legs squeeze his textured hips. “You’re taking me so well. I’m proud of you.” The moan is involuntary as you feel him push deeper, his lips catching and nipping on your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to pierce, but his tongue soothing you so softly. Moving from your ear, you almost let out a whine before he blows a teasing breath on your neck, causing you to squirm and keen at the tickleing sensation. Zevlor’s fiery eyes look down at you, and that soft smile never fails to melt your core. He leans in, lips hovering over yours, his hands softly gliding down your waist, “I love you…” The vow is then sealed with a kiss.

Wyll

Wyll hadn’t thought of you as touched starved until you had to tell him flat-out. To his credit, you didn’t make it easy for him to figure out. When Wyll thinks of the term touched starved, he thinks of someone like him. Someone always willing to give out a hug or a friendly pat on the back; if you’re touched starved and in the proximity of Wyll, you were not touched starved for long. Hells, Wyll would risk the burns of hugging Karlach if she so requested. You, on the other hand, would never seem to be receptive to his friendly gestures, having grown up in a home with little affection and living on the brutal road for a while with a pleasant touch would always be a shock to your system. Especially from Wyll, it was like lightning shooting through your body with a new surge of energy you didn’t know what to do with, so you would tense up. After feeling you clamp up, Wyll simply thought you didn’t like to be touched, so ever the gentleman, he stopped. But that only made you begin to grave him…Finally, after days of seeing him touch and hug your other friends, you felt yourself going to pop. In a spur of the moment, you walked into his tent, staring at his confused features; timidness threatened to take you over, so with shaking limbs, you held your arms open with a shaky beg of “Please…” Wyll’s smile would grow so wide as he embraced you. “I thought you didn’t like to be touched?” “I…I like it when you do it…I crave your embrace…” Wyll will never make you ask please for a hug again…but other things, he might…

You couldn’t explain exactly why you love it so much, but you find you’re running your hands up and down Wylls strong back every time you get the chance. Maybe it was from seeing all its glory when he returned from the river or in the early mornings when he woke up for training. There’s just something about his broad shoulders that lean down to his narrow waist that makes your hands twitch to touch him. Wyll, of course, isn’t oblivious to how you take him in; that might be why he walks around without a shirt more often. His favorite part about liking his back is when you rest your head between his shoulder blades and hold onto him tightly. It never fails to put a smile on both your faces.

Between the two of you, you’re the one who is always slow to wake. On a typical day, you usually wake up to an empty left side of the bed, but this morning is different. You wake up to your body being held by what looks like a sleeping Wyll. Your first instinct is to worry and check him for a fever, but you find that he feels normal, and when he wakes, he greets you with a lazy smirk. “Are you okay, Wyll? You’re usually up by now?” Wyll hums softly as his eyes lazily roam over your form, “I woke up earlier but found that I couldn’t part from you…” His sweet words always make you blush, and you go to say you're sorry out of habit, but you’re silenced by him gently stroking your cheek. “Well, How about I make breakfast for us? We could eat together.” As you rise, you are quickly grabbed and trapped within his arms, his lips attacking your neck in a plethora of kisses, making you giggle. “You’re not going anywhere…I am not done with you yet…”

It’s always so slow, his hands sliding up and down your spread legs while your sex grows more and more aroused. One part of you wants to beg him to stop teasing you, but you both know that the loving pass of his hands on your skin is what you crave. Wyll keeps his eyes on yours as his lips press against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The attention he gives you makes your mind hazy and your sex quiver in a way that only he causes. A moment of weakness causes you to moan his name. He will look down at your flushed face and smile against your skin before finally sliding his tongue on the spot you need him the most.

Rolan

Rolan is very familiar with the term being touched starved, and from being accused of it by Cal and Lia relentlessly, he was aware of the traits. Not that he thought he ever showed these. Then came you, and it was the end of him being touched starved. Rolan, at first, didn’t understand why every time you were near, your hand would absentmindedly rub in between his shoulder blades or how when you would go out to the tavern, you would sit so close to him, and it wasn’t as if you were unaware of this. No, from how you would look at his curious gaze with a smirk and a sparkle in your eyes, he knew you were messing with him. Though despite this…you two kept hanging out. If anyone would ask you if you longed for touch, you would say you only wanted Rolans and you had no shame about it; you just wished one day he would indicate the touch for once. Finally, one night, Rolan invited you to the tower to do some reading, something you could do at home, but you wouldn’t dream of passing up a moment to be around him. You two had found yourselves on the chaste, sitting very closely, exchanging blushing looks over the edges of your books, and with every passing page, you two would find yourselves inching closer and closer. Then, as your thighs are pressed together, you feel a warmth wrapping around your ankle. Looking down, you see his tail wrapped around you loosely, unsurely. Rolan had finally taken the initiative, and you were beaming. “If it bothers you, I can-” But before he could finish his sentence, you wrapped his arm around you as you curled into him more. You could hear the rapid rushing of his heart, and you could feel how it matched your own. “It doesn’t bother me; I’ve just been wondering what’s been taking you so long…” The teasing only rewards you with a tighter hold.

You find every part of Rolan to be utterly perfect, from his beautiful horns to his freckled cheeks to his toes. But the one part of him you constantly find yourself playing with is his tail, swaying and twitching like it has a mind of its own. You love to sneak behind him and run your fingers over the ridged base. The shiver and low growl he gives out every time makes you want to tease and touch him more, your hands becoming clammy for it. Today, you’re reading and mindlessly playing with the sharp tip till, finally, he’s curling the tail around your forearm and pulling you closer for a hungry kiss. He says he is being driven mad by your relentless teasing; you can only smile back before whispering, “Then you shouldn’t keep rewarding me…”

Rolan tries not to let his neediness get the better of him…but some days, he can’t resist your pull on him. Every time he saw you today, his hands roamed over every curve, his nose in the crook of your neck, and he muttered things you couldn’t catch. The attention was well received as you loved his every touch, but when you parted from him to wash up for the night, the look on his face was utter devastation. “I will be quick, then all night I am yours.” Rolan tsked as he let you go, sitting down in his chair where he would wait for your return. You tried your best to hurry into the bath but were not quick enough. As you wet your hair to be ready for washing, you heard the door open and were greeted by the magnificent sight of Rolan in a small cloth wrapped around his waist. He motions for you to make room. He removes his towel and joins you in the bath. You are happy but utterly confused, and Rolan is quick to defend his actions as he gathers soap into his palm, “You took too long, so now I am here to help; now turn so I can wash your hair.” Without any protest, you turn and relish in the feeling of his clawed hands, washing and lathering the soap in your hair, taking the time to scratch your scalp as he cleans you gently. Maybe you should have him wash your hair every time? If you asked, Rolan would be happy, too.

It started as a pleasant surprise; while you two were working at Sundries, his tail kept brushing against your butt, and when you two would be out of view from prying eyes, his hand would gently caress your ass. These are simple hints of his wants; you are always eager for his touch. Now here you are, pressed against the back wall with Rolan's needy hands grabbing tight handfuls of your butt. Pants are quickly discarded, and he gives you a quick slap to the soft exposed flesh for being such a naughty distraction. You keen and arch, grinding your ass against his burning erection. A deep moan when his nails dig into your flesh as he starts to rut into you deeply. Panting breaths, intertwined limbs, sweaty bodies desperately rocking against each other. It’s the night you learned that the Great Master Rolan is an ass man.

Gale

You never thought of yourself as touched starved; sure, you had points when you thought of being held or holding someone, but it was never something you would say you were starving for; well, that was until Gale. It was an accident when it happened; you two had offered to go to the morning market to gather supplies for dinner. The morning market was incredibly crowded, and you two kept getting separated. Gale, always the quick thinker, came up with the best solution. As he walked in front of you like a shield, he grabbed your hand and led you through. The gesture immediately stirred something within you, and as you walked hand in hand, looking at the back of him, you found yourself tightening your grip. During the rest of your time at the market, you two held each other’s hands. It wasn’t until you two returned to camp that you realized you held hands the whole way back. After that day, you reached out for his hand more often. Gale, of course, didn’t seem to mind. He liked the extra company, but getting you to let go so he could cut vegetables was challenging. After a while, you will find yourself craving more touches from Gale. So late one night, you crawled into his tent; when you woke him, he was initially surprised, asking you what you needed. “I…I think I’m touched starved…could…you hold me for a bit?” Gale’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, but he eagerly invites you into his arms, delighted to share in cuddles and maybe a few kisses.

It should be no surprise your favorite place to touch Gale is his hands. They are perfectly soft and fit perfectly within yours. You find that your hands are interlocked together if you’re by him. Gale finds your need to hold him in some way lovely and ultimately endearing. Gale’s favorite times when you hold his hands is when you are fast asleep curled up with him in his bedroll, your hands interlaced with his. He doesn’t dare move them because he knows you will only start seeking them again in your sleep.

You’re used to holding Gale’s hand, but on days he’s feeling needy, you find that his hands tend to roam. Today had been one of those days; his hands had started lazily, moving up and down your arms, gently grazing you all morning so tenderly. By the afternoon, his hands had found their way to run up and down your back, moving so slowly to send shivers through your body successfully. Then, in the Evening, they moved to trace your sides as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck. Finally, you asked if he was well, his lips smiling against your skin. “Perfectly fine…just being needy for you…does it bother you?” you feel your skin flush, and your lips curl to an excited smile. “No, I like the attention from you…” Gale is always ready to shower you with attention; you just need to ask…

The man didn’t lie when he told you he had a practiced tongue, and tonight, you are finding that out firsthand. You felt needy when you crawled into his tent; it was late, and he was surprisingly awake. At first, it was innocent, simple hand holding a kiss or two like other nights before to satisfy your need, but tonight, you’re finding your aching for more, and Gale knows this. All you need to do is ask…Your hands grip tightly to the blankets as his tongue works against you. Gales focuses as his hands grip your thighs, and he sucks and licks more. He’s desperate to taste your release all over his tongue, and with him always being so good to you, who are you to deny him?

Astarion

With all he had been through, the feeling of being touched had become unstimulating. Astartion had felt every kind of touch possible. Well, at least that’s what he thought, until you. The energy between you two had been electric from the first moment; you were brilliant, and his usual charms didn’t make you bend like they did others. In fact, for all his teasing, you would give back your own. It was like a game between you two, and it only made you crave each other more. Then it hit its peak…You were admittedly getting lost in his words as he spoke to you, but it was different; it was genuine, and you had never felt so close to others. So when you gently brushed back his hair as he talked, you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise. Your weakness shocked you, and Astarion was surprised by someone touching him so gently, as if he were made of glass. Going to take back your hand, it’s quickly caught by his, and gentle lips pressing to your palm sets your skin ablaze. The kiss was as soft as your touch, but Astarion can never pass up an opportunity… “Couldn’t help yourself anymore, hm?” You would accept defeat this once…

Astarion has never been a fan of cuddling…well, not until he met you. And what did you do to make him change his mind on the slow and intimate activity? Astarion loves the way your fingers brush slowly and carefully through his hair. He finds he has gradually become needy for that soft, gentle touch. On the other hand, you love the feeling of his soft locks slipping through your fingers; actually, there are many things you can adore about Astarion; you find the soft touch of brushing through his hair always seems to relax you. You could spend all night with him in your arms like this…and you do.

You didn’t know if it was your imagination, but Astarion seemed grumpy today. You had tried to joke around with him and even participate in some teasing and flirting, but he wasn’t receptive. Thinking it best to just drop it, you left him alone for the rest of the day, going about your usual task. Then Evening rolled around; you were getting ready for bed when you heard a throat clearing outside your tent. Poking your head out, you saw Astarion looking…bashful? “Do you mind…if I slept here…with you…I’ve…been feeling off…” One part of you wanted him to explain; he had ignored you, and now he wants to sleep in your tent with you? And wait, elves don’t sleep? But something about the look in his red eyes…he seemed…lonely…Gently, you reach your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt and pull him in softly. The rest of the night was spent with you sleeping with your head in his lap as he read to your sleeping form. Being around you made him feel so much better; it was as he thought…he was starting to rely on you, and for once, the thought of depending on another didn’t scare him.

Sometimes, you can not decide who is needer between the two of you. Of course, you two tease each other about it, but Astarion is always the better tease. You’re rolling your eyes in both pleasure and annoyance as he moves his tongue across your chest, your nipples peaked and sensitive to every feathery touch. You try to keep your moans in, but it’s useless; “You make such pretty sounds, darling, keep it up.” His cold hands move between caressing your chest and your skin to find your sensitive nipples. Red eyes look up at you, filled with mischief. Is he satisfied with just a taste? Or will he bite…

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 months ago

Text

Finish Line || LS2

Summary: A farewell fic to Logan because I'm a sookie and miss him already. Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader (living in America) WC: 4k

Summer Break 2021

Your mother always said, “Nothing good is easy and nothing easy is good.” To an eighteen year old fresh out of high school you thought she was referring to studying and exam results, not the more impactful experiences you would face once the red brick walls were left in the rear view mirror.

It would only take a matter of weeks to learn the real meaning.

Loving Logan wasn’t easy but it was impossible to stop the feeling of falling that came soon after meeting him. From the moment you met there was an indescribable connection but the paths of your future were heading in completely different directions and you knew at the end of summer you would say your goodbyes.

In the meantime you would enjoy what the weather had to offer and what better way to emancipate yourself from the innocence of youth and broadcast to the world that you were an adult than a girls road trip to Miami? You may not have been old enough to drink but that didn’t stop the college guys on summer vacation from keeping you and your friends well supplied.

Looking back, it only proved how young and naive you were.

“Dalt, I really shouldn’t be here,” Logan complained as a red cup was thrust into his hand. “I could get in so much trouble for this.”

“Relax, bro, you’ll be fine.” His older brother clapped him on the back happily. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The beach house was right on the waterfront and Logan stepped out onto the white sand to dip his toes in the warm water. He didn’t know who’s family the place belonged to but Dalton seemed to know everyone by name. It only made him feel even more left out and he thought maybe he should have just stayed in England for the summer break.

The house was stifling with the humid temperatures compounding to a sauna with all the bodies inside. The beer had started off cool but it had warmed in your hands and began to taste disgusting so you abandoned it into the hands of a stranger passing by who swiftly chugged it back before shouting the Greek alphabet you assumed was the name of his frat house. You had certainly bitten off more than you could chew and debated catching a Greyhound bus home where you felt safe but you wouldn’t ditch your friends who were absolutely in their element.

The beach wasn’t like any you had seen before arriving in Miami. The sand bars were tiny pockets of islands and each property seemed to be its own space divided by narrow canals that lead to dry docks for their expensive boats.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked the stranger who sat in the sand at the water's edge. It was impossible to ignore each other’s presence when the rising tide had left such little space.

“It’s a free country,” he said with a small smile, his palm quickly swiping away the picture he had drawn in the sand.

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes it feels like a prison. Sorry, that was really morbid.”

He laughed and tipped his head back to the sun that still beat down despite being late in the afternoon. “You’re not wrong though. I love coming home, but sometimes I’m glad I don’t live here anymore. I don’t know how to fit in with that,” he said looking back at drunken revelers who had stripped down to their swimwear despite having no inclination to actually enter the water.

He looked like the rest of the guys there: tanned skin over a toned body and dirty blonde hair hidden by a cap he wore backwards. The southern drawl also confirmed the fact he called this place home.

“Where do you fit in then?”

His shoulders shrugged as he picked at a desiccated chain of Neptune’s necklace that had washed up on the beach. He busied himself with plucking each individual bead off the seaweed and flicking it back to the water. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“A Formula One racing driver, or a fisherman.”

You buried your toes in the sand, wiggling them to dig deeper where it was cooler. “I thought the all-american dream was to be an astronaut?”

You met his blue eyes and saw the amusement that sparkled in them. “I’m afraid of heights,” he admitted with a grin before he held out his hand. “I’m Logan.”

“I think we are beyond names here, I already know your hopes and dreams,” you teased, shaking his hand.

“But I don’t know yours, yet.”

“I can give you my name, but as for hopes and dreams, I have no idea what I want to be. I’m still trying to figure that out.” You realised his hand was still in yours and gave it another small shake. “I’m Y/N.”

As the sun fell below the horizon the party grew larger and soon it spilled into the slice of paradise you had carved out with Logan. Sand was kicked up as two guys tackled each other to the ground and Logan threw a protective arm around you before they could crash into your side.

“Back it up bro,” he said as he rose to his feet and pulled you up too, tucking you in behind his back. “You could have hurt somebody.”

“Aw, Sargeant, is that your girlfriend?”

Logan ignored them and turned to check you were alright. His eyes scanned over your body and slowed on their ascent before he cleared his throat and met your eyes again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You scanned the crowd and spotted two of your friends dancing and the other sat on some guy's lap, smiles on all their faces. You couldn’t disappear and make them worry but you didn’t want to stay as the party only grew more chaotic. “Yes, please, I’ll just tell my friends I’m leaving.”

You weren’t going to attempt to get amongst the gyrating bodies so instead headed to Dakota. The guy sitting beneath her noticed your arrival first and grinned at Logan as he stepped in beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. “You’re leaving aren’t you? Well, you lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“You two know each other?” you asked.

“Only since birth,” Logan answered. “This is my brother, Dalton. Dalton, this is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said before turning your attention to your friend. “I’m going to head off, Kote. Logan said he can drop me off at the apartment after dinner.”

“Are you sure? I can take you back if you want.”

You laughed and leaned into Logan, enjoying the warmth that came as his arm curled around your waist. “I’m good, someone needs to make sure those two get back.”

You both looked at the twins who had found dance partners and knew the rented 4 bedroom apartment was probably going to double in residents by morning. With a resigned sigh that she didn’t really feel as the group mother, Dakota nodded. “I’ve got them, you two have fun.”

The wink she sent you off with made your cheeks heat but you hadn’t actually planned on doing what the action implied. Of course Logan was attractive, and the thought of taking him to your bedroom was one that had you melting, but you were quite happy just enjoying his company too.

“Are you hungry? I know this great spot but it’s a bit of a drive from here.”

Out in the street where the sounds of the thumping bass couldn’t reach your stomach rumbled and you smiled sheepishly. “Just a little.”

The restaurant he knew was on Key Largo, about an hour south of where the party was in Miami Beach and you were amazed by how many bridges had been built to connect the keys. It would have felt a bit scary driving over the ocean if it wasn’t for Logan recounting stories of growing up in the state. It was a good distraction to listen to the fondness in his tone as he remembered fishing off the now-closed piers that he pointed out.

“I think this is where you fit in,” you said as he cruised along the highway in his pickup truck, the radio quietly playing an RnB station in the background. It was warm enough that the window was down and the breeze blew his hair back like a runway model.

He glanced across the car and lifted a questionable brow. “In Florida?”

“No! Behind the wheel. You look, I don’t know, comfortable? No, content, that’s the word.”

On the beach Logan had shared how he was halfway through the season of Formula 3 in Europe and had hopes to join an F1 team in the future. It was also when he mentioned returning to the country he currently lived in, four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Despite only just meeting him, you felt the four week countdown arriving like a dark storm cloud.

Those four weeks flew by almost as quickly as you fell in love.

Summer Break 2024

The soy milk screeched and you winced at the sound before saving the new girl, and the coffee, from the machine. Thankfully it wasn’t scorched as the shop was already full with the busy morning foot-traffic and you wanted to keep it flowing for the customer’s sake.

“Soy latte with a shot of hazelnut?” A hand went up and you passed the takeaway cup over. “Have a nice day.”

You looked at the next order stuck to the bench and immediately searched for the customer, a smile splitting your face when you found him. “Baby, you’re home! Why didn’t you call?”

Logan ducked under the staff counter and met your embrace with strong arms that pulled you to your tiptoes. “I called, but you must have been busy here. God, it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

You checked your phone in the pocket of your apron and saw the missed call before slipping it over your head. “Marie, can you keep an eye on everything?”

“Yeah, course, hun, take your time,” the part time barista said with a wave. “Welcome home, Logan.”

“Thank you.”

You dragged Logan eagerly through the swing door that stated ‘staff only’ and past the break room to the disused office at the back. “I’ve missed you so much,” you managed to say between the desperate kisses you shared as he kicked your door closed.

“Missed you too.”

Your hands reached beneath his shirt and he chuckled breathlessly as he caught them before they could move any further. “Tempting, sweetheart, but not here.”

You pouted as you draped your arms around his neck instead and held him tight. “I have the studio booked in 20 minutes, did you want to come?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the stupid question and didn’t bother to answer as he tucked his hands into the back of your jeans and buried his face in your hair. “You smell like blueberry muffins,” he hummed happily.

“I can steal one,” you offered but when you pulled away he quickly pulled you back with a shake of his head.

“Diet.”

You grabbed the flesh on his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath. “You’re perfect, baby, one muffin isn’t going to change that - but it will make you happier. Go grab a seat in the staff room.”

You walked him back down the hall and let him settle into the couch while you grabbed a muffin from the front counter. Most of the rush had quickly cleared and with the lull in orders you made him his favourite drink.

“You spoil me, sweetheart,” he said with a gratefully smile as you placed the plate and cup on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” You sank into the couch beside him and watched him pick apart the muffin, finding all the blueberries to eat first. He could feel your eyes on his hands as they fiddled with crumbs but before he worked up the courage to explain why he caught a flight two days earlier than planned. “What’s going on, baby?”

He exhaled a heavy sigh and wiped his hands clean before taking yours. “I think it’s over.”

Your heart cleaved apart and your ears started ringing as your world came crashing down. There was only one semester left in your art programme before all the plans the two of you made would come to life - plans that started with moving to England with Logan. Plans that were crumbling down.

“It’s over?” you repeated as silent tears streaked your face and your hands slipped from his.

Horror bled into Logan’s features and he snatched your hands back, placing them over his chest where his heart beat rapidly with panic. “Not us, never us,” he rushed with a harsh shake of his head. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are my everything.”

You sagged with relief as he wiped your eyes but the relief was short lived as you understood what he meant and the phantom pain in your chest returned. “Have you spoken to James?”

He nodded and leaned into your touch as your palms ran up his chest to cradle his face. “It’s not good.”

To hear the defeat in his voice was something you never wished to hear again. It was a sound that no 23 year old should make, he was too young to feel the immense pressure he was under and a weaker man would have been broken by it. But Logan was strong, mentally and physically - he would recover from this, you would make sure of it.

“Come on,” you whispered as you rose to your feet and tugged his hands.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But you have class.”

You grabbed your handbag from your locker and tossed him the car keys. “This is more important, and I can paint anywhere.”

—

The drive to Miami took most of the day and the frown on Logan’s forehead seemed to soften as the arid air turned humid and the paddocks turned to swamp before he sped through Alligator Alley. The top 40 charts played quietly on the radio and Logan hummed along with the ones he liked while he held your hand on your thigh.

A contented sigh of relief exhaled from deep in Logan’s chest as the sunset and the city lights illuminated the horizon. Though he was tired to his bones, just the sight of his home was enough to rejuvenate him and he sat up a little straighter before taking the exit that would lead him to Fort Lauderdale.

Madelyn and Daniel were already expecting Logan and the front door opened before he could turn the engine off. It had been a while since they last had Logan home and you felt a little guilty since most of his returns to home soil were to visit you instead, but they didn’t hold it against you. Madelyn was just happy that there was someone who loved and supported Logan as much as she did.

It was immediately clear that she wasn’t aware of his current struggles as you saw him hide behind a confident smile as she asked how everything was going.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he admitted as he closed his bedroom door after dinner.

You placed your bag on the floor and took a seat at the headboard before patting the spot beside you. Logan flopped down on the bed and rested his head on your thighs while his long legs hung over the edge, looking up as if you had all the answers.

“You could never disappoint them, Lo, they just want you to be happy. And, you're worrying about things that haven’t even come to pass. We don’t know what the second half of the season will bring.”

“I know you are being reasonable, but I can’t help thinking this is the end. Everyone else thinks so too.”

“You mean everyone on X, formally known as twitter,” you said with a roll of your eyes that made him chuckle. “How about no social media for the whole break? Just disconnect from it all for four weeks.”

“And what happens at the end of the break?” he asked quietly, sensing deja vu from the last time he asked this three years ago. It was an eerily similar state too with his head on your legs but you were on the white sands instead of a bed. You had already fallen in love but he was due to fly back to Europe and you would be getting in the car with your friends and heading home. He had forever changed you that summer.

You combed your fingers through his hair as you relived the same memory. “We will be grateful for the time we had together.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he sat up so he could pull you onto his lap. “I’m not letting you go again.”

“I should hope not,” you stated as your knees settled either side of his thighs and you reached into his pocket to fish his phone out. “Now say goodbye to this, I am having you all to myself.”

He plucked the phone from your fingers and tossed it to the side table before putting all those glorious muscles to good use. The room spun until he caged your body beneath his and he gently kissed his way across your collarbone. “You already have me, sweetheart.”

–

A sick twisting feeling gripped your gut as you waved goodbye to Logan through misted eyes. No matter what you had said, you could feel his stress growing as the break came to an end and now he was going back alone. You wished you could go with him.

The drive back to your apartment was too quiet but you couldn’t listen to the radio because the songs he would have hummed to would only make you miss him more. It always took days, weeks even, to reacclimate yourself to the loss of his presence when he left. It never got easier but the memories made were worth it.

The days dragged by as classes began again and the repetitive routine of life was reestablished. Finally it was the weekend and you could curl up on the couch and watch Logan’s practice on F1TV while you were surrounded by paintings of him. There were two new additions that had come back from Miami, one capturing his happiness as he reeled in a bluefish and the other capturing his perfect features as he sunbathed shirtless, that one was purely indulgent.

“Oh no, Sargeant has taken a big shunt into the barriers there.”

Your feet slammed to the floor as you jumped out of your seat and stumbled closer to the tv as if you could reach through it and help, but you were helpless to watch as Logan remained in the car in the middle of the track - red flags waving.

“Come on, baby, get out of there,” you begged as you heard his radio saying he was okay, but then the back of the car ignited into flame. You were screaming for him to get out as George’s car rolled by, his hands gesturing wildly for Logan to get out too before he finally was free of the seat harness and jumping out over the halo.

You finally breathed a sigh of relief but it didn’t last as the camera cut to Logan leaning on the barriers, his head hung in defeat despite the helmet hiding his face. You knew your boyfriend better than anyone, you knew exactly what was going on inside his head and you knew you had to do something.

The credit card Logan had given you years ago had been left discarded in the back of your underwear drawer. He said it was for you to use but you had never been with him for the money and even as a broke uni student you hadn’t used it once. But this was an emergency, and if you were ever going to use it then you could be damn sure it was going to be spent on him.

One quick email was sent to your professor begging for an extension due to a family emergency before you packed a bag and booked the first flight out to Amsterdam.

With shaking hands you typed a message: I’m so glad you got out of there, baby. I’m on my way and I love you so much xxx

You knew he wouldn’t be able to reply for a little while since he would have to get back to the team garage, and there would be other responsibilities first like having a medical check and debrief, but you sent it anyway along with the flight numbers so he knew where you would be and when. It was going to be a long day with the 13 hours of flights plus the change in timezone but nothing was going to keep you from getting to Logan before the race tomorrow.

–

A stranger with a whiteboard greeted you at the airport and the exhaustion of the trip faded away when you reached the paddock with a pass in hand and stepped into the Williams garage. Bodies of mechanics moved in sync as they rushed around the car preparing it for the race that was due to start in a few short hours but it was one man that was standing among them that drew you closer.

“Lo,” you greeted softly behind him on raised tiptoes.

A wide smile split his face as he turned to embrace you, lifting your feet off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Hellow, sweetheart,” he breathed against your skin before inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume.

Your hands tightened on his waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Are you okay?”

He pulled back and his smile faltered. “I’m better now that you’re here.”

You reached up to trace the curve of his cheek where his smile had been but his team principal called his name before you could feel the shadow of his beard on your palm. “Can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked Logan before spotting you, a flicker of surprise on his face. “Hello, Y/N, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“You too, James,” you replied politely before stepping out of Logan’s arms and giving him a little nudge in the right direction. “I’ll wait over in hospitality.”

Logan spent what time he could with you, reassured by the feel of your arms wrapped around his neck and your cheek pressed to his as you sat on his lap in the single chair that furnished his driver room. The thin walls did little to dampen the noise of the motorhome and the crowd beyond but for a few minutes Logan could forget it all and the pressure that came with it - until the clock ticked away the precious minutes alone and reality returned.

“I have to score a point today,” he whispered like he was confessing a sin and he tipped his head back to stare at the roof. “No point, no seat. That's the deal.”

“Can they do that with your contract?”

“They can do whatever they want, sweetheart. I’m lucky they let me go this long without contributing.”

You cupped his face and tipped it forward so he was forced to look you in the eyes. “There are more ways to contribute to the team than just scoring points. You spend hours in the simulator every week so they can get their precious data.”

“And then I go and cost them $250k when I crash,” he laughed humorlessly and dropped his forehead to yours. “I think this is it. I’m tired and it’s so hard to enjoy it now. That’s the worst part out of all of it. I used to like my job, it was all I wanted to do.”

Your thumbs caught the tears that clung to his lower lashes. “What do you want now?”

“I honestly have no idea, I just know I want to be wherever you are.”

A knock at the door interrupted the promise you were going to make and someone in a William’s shirt said it was time to head back to the garage before ducking back out of the room.

“I love you” you whispered between the kisses you traced across the bow of his lips. “I want you to go out there today and forget James and points and all that stuff and just enjoy the race. I have watched you give everything to this team but today I want you to be selfish, okay? Enjoy it out there or it’s all for nothing, no matter the outcome. And when you get out of that car I will be waiting for you, arms wide open.”

Logan closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath before he captured your lips in a passionate kiss that left you both breathless. Resolute and proud, he stood up and placed you on his feet before grabbing his cap and slapping it on his head. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”

#logan sargent x reader #Logan sargeant fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #logan sargeant fic #f1 x reader

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Texas Orange

SUMMARY: Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him.

**This was my first time writing about Glen himself and not one of his characters. I really loved the idea and the song that inspired this fic, however think I may stick to writing his characters instead of him as a person in the future. **

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

The Texas sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape as you and Glen drive through the winding roads of Austin. The truck hums steadily beneath you, the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside.

You glance over at Glen, dressed in a black t-shirt with the orange Texas Longhorns symbol emblazoned on the chest, and a white Longhorns baseball cap turned backward on his head. His sunglasses shield his eyes from the bright light, and with one hand on the wheel, he holds your hand gently in the other. You glance over at him, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile when he catches you looking at him.

"This is amazing," you say, taking in the sprawling hills and the way the cityscape rises in the distance. "I can't believe I've never been here before."

Glen chuckles, his voice low and smooth, the kind of sound that makes you feel instantly at ease. "I still can't believe that. Austin's pretty great. But, I mean, you grew up on the coast, right? Plenty of beauty there too."

You nod, your mind flashing back to memories of ocean breezes and sandy beaches, a world away from the vast, open skies of Texas. "Yeah, but it's different. I've never seen anything quite like this."

He grins, squeezing your hand gently. "You're gonna love it here. Plus, this is only the start. Wait till you see the stadium-it's a whole other world."

You laugh, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubble up inside you. "Speaking of the stadium, I've got to admit something. I've never actually been to a football game before. My family wasn't really into sports growing up."

Glen's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he quickly recovers with a teasing grin. "You've never been to a game? Well, that changes today. Texas football is like a religion around here. It's something you just have to experience.

"Hopefully I'll fit in okay," you say, half-joking. The thought of stepping into the massive stadium, surrounded by thousands of passionate fans, is both thrilling and a little daunting.

He chuckles, his voice warm with affection. "Don't worry, I'll be right there with you. We'll ease you into it. Plus, my folks are going to be so excited to meet you they're gonna forget about the game, at least for a minute."

The mention of his family makes your stomach flip. This is a big step, meeting his family, even if you've both been keeping things casual. There's a part of you that wonders if this trip is more than just a casual one for Glen.

"What are they like? Your family, I mean," you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Glen's expression softens, a fond smile playing on his lips. "They're great. They'll love you, I promise. My mom might be a little overwhelming at first, but that's just because she cares so much. And my dad, well he's the quiet type, but once you get him talking about anything Texas-related, you won't be able to get him to stop."

You smile at the thought, feeling a bit more at ease. "They sound like a good bunch."

"They are," Glen says, his voice sincere. "And they're going to love you. How could they not?"

His words bring warmth to your chest, and you squeeze his hand in return. "I hope so."

As the two of you continue to drive further into Austin, Glen gives you a mini tour. He points out a few landmarks - his favorite taco place, the park where he used to hang out with friends, and a music venue where he once saw an incredible show. You listen, soaking in every detail, feeling a sense of connection to this place that Glen clearly loves so much.

"Here we are," Glen says as he pulls into a parking spot near the stadium. The massive structure looms ahead, a sea of burnt orange and white, alive with energy even from a distance.

You take a deep breath, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside you. "This is it, huh?"

"This is it," Glen confirms, turning to you with a smile that melts away any lingering doubts. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you say, smiling back at him.

As you step out of Glen's truck, you notice that nearly everyone around you is decked out in burnt orange and white. Texas Longhorns hats, jerseys, and t-shirts, all show their pride. The sea of matching colors makes you acutely aware that you're the only one not wearing any team gear.

Glen steps around the truck to join you, noticing the way your eyes scan the crowd. He gives you a playful nudge with his elbow. "Feeling a little out of place?"

You laugh, shrugging slightly. "Just a bit. I think I missed the memo on the dress code."

Without missing a beat, Glen reaches up to the back of his head and pulls off the white Longhorns cap he's been wearing. He turns it around in his hands before stepping closer to you. "Here, you can wear this. Can't have you being the odd one out."

Before you can respond, he's already placing the cap on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts the fit, making sure it sits just right. You tilt your head up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen takes a step back to admire his work, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look great in Orange. Might even say you wear it better than I do."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "You might be biased."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I'm also right."

As you walk towards the section of the parking lot reserved for tailgating, Glen drapes an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. "Tell you what, we'll hit up the merch stand once we're inside. Gotta get you a t-shirt to complete the look."

"You don't have to do that," you start to protest, but Glen shakes his head.

"I want to," he insists, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Consider it part of the full Texas football experience."

You smile up at him, feeling more at ease with every step. "Alright, but only if you help me pick it out."

"Deal," Glen says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple before leading you into the sea of orange and white.

The aroma of sizzling barbecue fills the air as you and Glen approach the tailgating area. Rows of trucks and RVs are lined up in the parking lot, each decked out in burnt orange. Flags bearing the Texas Longhorns logo flutter in the breeze, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles create a festive atmosphere.

Glen leads you through the crowd with a confident stride, his hand securely holding yours. As you near a large, lively group gathered around a grill, Glen spots his family and friends.

"There they are," he says, nodding towards the group. "Ready to meet everyone?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Glen gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you approach the group. His mom, Cyndy, is the first to spot the two of you, and her face lights up with a welcoming smile. She's a petite woman with a warm demeanor, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves you over.

"There you are!" Cyndy calls out, pulling Glen into a quick hug before turning her attention to you. "And you must be the one we've been hearing so much about. I'm Cyndy, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

You return her smile, instantly feeling at ease with her friendly nature. "It's great to meet you too. Glen's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, I'm sure he has," Cyndy says with a wink before pulling you into a hug. "Welcome, sweetheart."

Next, Glen's dad, Glen Sr., steps forward with a firm handshake and a nod. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a quiet strength about him. "Good to have you here," he says simply, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable.

Then, Glen's sisters Lauren and Leslie, each take their turn to greet you. Lauren gives you a friendly smile. "You're braver than I would be, meeting the whole crew at once like this. They can be a handful, but you'll be fine."

Leslie nudges Glen playfully. "You didn't warn her about us, did you?"

Glen laughs, shaking his head. "I figured I'd let you all speak for yourselves."

As you exchange pleasantries, more of Glen's friends and extended family members join in, introducing themselves and welcoming you with open arms. Someone hands you a cold drink, and before you know it, you're standing around a grill piled high with burgers, sausages, and all the fixings, soaking in the pre-game atmosphere.

The conversation quickly turns to stories about Glen's past. A few of his college buddies, each with a beer in hand, are eager to share some of their favorite memories.

"Remember that time Glen tried to impress a girl by riding a mechanical bull at that honky-tonk?" One of them starts, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, I remember!" Another chimes in. "He was so confident, strutted right up there like he was gonna show everyone how it's done. Lasted about five seconds before he got thrown off and landed flat on his back."

The group erupts in laughter, and even Glen can't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says shaking his head. "At least I gave it a shot."

Cyndy leans in closer to you, a glint in her eye. "That's nothing compared to the time he and his sister decided to 'borrow' my car when they were kids. Thought they'd take a little joyride around the neighborhood...until they crashed it into a mailbox."

"Oh no!" You gasp, unable to suppress a laugh.

Lauren grins, shaking her head at the memory. "We were grounded for months. Glen thought he was so slick, but he didn't realize the mailbox he hit belonged to one of Dad's friends."

"Yep," Glen Sr adds with a rare smile, "and that's how they learned not to mess with my car."

The easy banter and lighthearted stories quickly dissolve any lingering nerves you have. Glen's family and friends are down-to-earth, welcoming you into their inner circle as if you've always been a part of it. The more they share, the more you see the depth of their bond and the way they care for each other.

As you take another bite of your burger, you look over at Glen, who's been watching you with a soft smile. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear.

You nod, feeling completely at ease now. "Yeah, I'm doing great. Your family's wonderful."

His smile widens as he places a hand gently on your back. "I'm glad you think so. They're a little crazy, but they're mine."

"And now I guess I'm part of them too," you say with a playful grin.

Glen's eyes light up at your words, and he leans in to press a quick, affectionate kiss to your lips. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Just then, one of Glen's friends raises his drink and shouts "Hook 'em, Horns!" The entire group responds in unison, raising their hands in the iconic "Hook 'em Horns" gesture, with pinkies and index figures extended with the thumb tucked grasping the second and third fingers.

You try to mimic the gesture, but you don't quite cooperate. Glen catches your struggle and chuckles softly. "Here, let me help," he says, gently taking your hand in his.

With his warm fingers guiding yours, Glen carefully adjusts your hand, making sure your pinky and index fingers are extended and your thumb tucks the other fingers. His touch is gentle and precise, and you can't help but feel a little flutter in your chest as he concentrates on getting it just right.

"How's that?" you ask, looking up at him with a smile.

He gives your hand a final tweak before stepping back to admire his work. "Perfect," he says, his voice soft and affectionate. "Now you're officially part of the team."

You laugh, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Guess I really am one of you now."

The group continues to laugh and share stories as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The pre-game atmosphere, filled with the sounds of sizzling food, clinking bottles, and cheerful banter, is everything you imagined - and more. With Glen's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders and the "Hook 'em Horns" gesture nailed down, you feel a sense of belonging that surprises you in the best possible way.

As the tailgate winds down and the anticipation for the game grows, Glen wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you through the throng of excited fans heading towards the stadium. The air is filled with the sounds of chanting, music, and the collective buzz of thousands of supporters, all eager for the big game.

"Ready for the full game day experience?" Glen asks, glancing over at you with a grin.

You nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Definitely. Lead the way."

As you approach the entrance, Glen veers off towards a merchandise stand just inside the gate, keeping his promise to get you your very own Texas Longhorns shirt. The stand is awash with burnt orange and white, offering everything from t-shirts to hoodies, foam fingers, and even Longhorns-themed sunglasses.

"Okay, let's find you something," Glen says, scanning the racks of shirts. He picks out a simple, yet classic burnt orange t-shirt with the Texas Longhorns logo emblazoned across the front. Holding it up to you, he grins "How about this one?"

You take the shirt from him, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. "It's perfect," you say, already imagining yourself fitting right in with the sea of orange in the stadium.

Glen pays for the shirt and then hands it back to you. "Go ahead and try it on. Let's see how it looks."

You pull the t-shirt over your white tank top, the bright orange contrasting perfectly with your outfit. As you smooth the fabric down, Glen steps back to admire the look.

"Hold on," he says, reaching for the white Texas Longhorns baseball cap he had been wearing earlier. With a playful grin, he gently places it back on your head, adjusting the brim so it sits just right. His fingers linger for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "How do I look?"

Glen's gaze softens as he takes you in, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You look great," he says, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I think orange might be your color."

You laugh softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Guess I'm officially part of the team now."

"Absolutely," Glen replies, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against your forehead. "Now, let's get to our seats."

With his arm comfortably draped around your shoulders, Glen guides you through the bustling concourse and up towards the exclusive box seats he reserved for you, his family, and close friends. As you walk, you can't help but notice a few heads turning, whispers following in your wake. It's clear that Glen's presence isn't going unnoticed.

But Glen seems unfazed by the attention, focused entirely on making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "Don't worry," he says, sensing your unease as you pass by a group of fans who seem to be debating whether or not to approach. "The suite will give us a bit of privacy. It's just us and the people we want to be with."

You give him a grateful smile, relieved at the thought of a more private space. "That sounds perfect."

When you reach the suite, a staff member opens the door, revealing a spacious, comfortable area with large windows offering an unobstructed view of the field. The room is decked out with cozy seating, a fully stocked fridge, and even a table spread with game day snacks.

Glen's family is already there, mingling and settling in, and they greet you warmly as you enter. You quickly realize that this box isn't just a place to watch the game - it's a space where you can relax, enjoy the company, and soak in the experience without any interruptions.

Glen guides you to a seat near the window, right next to him. As you take in the view of the field below, and the energy of the crowd that's starting to pile into the stadium, you feel a sense of excitement bubbling up.

"So, what do you think?" Glen asks, settling in beside you, his hand casually resting on your knee.

You turn to him, your smile reflecting the excitement you feel. "It's incredible."

Glen grins, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you're here," he says giving your knee a gentle squeeze. "Now, get ready for some real Texas football."

Suddenly, the lights dim, and the giant screen at the far end of the stadium flickers to life. The Texas Longhorns logo appears, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You glance over at Glen, who is grinning ear to ear, clearly caught up in the excitement.

"Here they come," he says, nodding towards the tunnel at the edge of the field.

The sound of drums fills the air as the Texas Longhorns marching band begins playing. The brass instruments gleam under the stadium lights and the rhythm of the drums pulses through the stands, making your heart beat a little faster.

As the band starts playing the school fight song, the crowd rises to their feet, the familiar tune echoing throughout the stadium. Glen stands up, pulling you to your feet with him. The sight is breathtaking - the sea of burnt orange, the flags waving proudly, and the booming voices of thousands of fans all joining together in the song.

Glen leans in close, his voice just above a whisper in your ear. "You've got to sing along, it's tradition."

You smile nervously, not sure what the words are, but Glen's enthusiasm is contagious. As the band reaches the chorus, Glen starts singing, his voice blending with the roar of the crowd. "Texas Fight! Texas Fight! And it's goodbye to A&M..."

You start to hum along to the words, your soft voice, almost drowned out by the thousands of others. But Glen's infection energy pulls you in. His eyes spark with excitement. "Louder!" he urges, his grin widening.

You laugh, feeling the last of your hesitation melt away as you throw yourself into the chant, clapping along with the beat and shouting the words with enthusiasm. Glen's pride is evident, and he can't hide his delight at seeing you get into the spirit of the game.

As the team bursts onto the field, the stadium erupts into a thunderous roar. The players, clad in their iconic burnt orange and white uniforms, charge out of the tunnel, the sight of them stirring a fresh wave of excitement into the crowd. The band crescendos into the final notes of the fight song, and the noise level reaches a fever pitch.

Glen wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the team lines up on the field. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You look up at him, your heart racing with the excitement of the moment. "It's amazing," you reply, your smile wide and genuine. "I can see why you love this so much."

As the players take their positions on the field, the atmosphere in the stadium becomes electric. The roar of the crowd swells, and you can feel the anticipation vibrating through the stands. You're fully immersed in the excitement, your earlier nerves replaced with growing enthusiasm as Glen points out different players and explains the significance of the game.

Just as you start to relax, the opening kickoff is moments away. You're leaning forward in your seat, eyes glued to the field when suddenly - BOOM!

The deafening sound of Smokey the Cannon firing catches you completely off guard. You jump in your seat, your heart racing as the shock of the blast reverberates through your chest.

Glen, noticing your startled reaction, can't help but chuckle. "Sorry, I should've warned you about that," he says, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. His laugh is warm and affectionate, and he pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder. "That's Smokey the Cannon. It fires off at every kickoff. Just part of the tradition."

You lean into his embrace, your initial fright quickly fading as you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. "I think I just aged a few years," you say with a laugh, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline. "I wasn't expecting that at all."

Glen's grip tightens slightly, his way of reassuring you. "It's loud, but you'll get used to it," he says, his voice gentle and comforting in your ear. "Trust me, by the end of the game, you'll be waiting for it."

You turn your head to catch his eye, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "I'll take your word for it," you reply, your nerves settling as you take comfort in his closeness.

The game kicks off, and the action on the field immediately draws you back in. As the players clash, the crowd erupts into cheers and groans, their energy contagious. Glen keeps you close, his arm draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself getting more and more caught up in the excitement of it all.

Throughout the game, Glen is right there, guiding you through the experience. He explains the rules as plays unfold, pointing out the strategy behind each move. "See how the quarterback is scanning the field?" he says at one point. "He's looking for an open receiver, someone who can catch the ball and make a run for it."

You nod, trying to absorb the information. "It's a lot more complicated than I thought," you admit, appreciating his patience.

Glen grins, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "That's what makes it fun," he says. "Once you start to understand the strategy, it's like watching a chess match...only with a lot more action."

As the game progresses, you find yourself cheering along with the crowd, your earlier nerves completely forgotten. Glen's explanations help you feel more connected to the game, and his excitement is infectious. Each time something exciting happens on the field - a touchdown, a particularly good tackle - he turns to you with a grin, eager to share the moment.

"Did you see that?" he asks after a particularly impressive play, his eyes alight with excitement. "That's what they call a 'Hail Mary' - a long pass to try and score a touchdown when time's running out."

You nod, caught up in the moment. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this," you say, feeling a sense of pride as you follow the flow of the game.

Glen leans in, his voice low and full of affection. "You're doing great," he says, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

You smile up at him, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. "Me too," you reply, feeling more at home in the stadium with each passing moment.

As the game continues, the two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm - Glen explaining plays, you cheering along with the crowd, and both of you enjoying the shared experience. It's a day filled with excitement, but also with moments of quiet connection, each one deepening the bond between you.

And by the time Smokey the Cannon fires off again, you barely flinch - too caught up in the thrill of the game and the warmth of Glen's presence beside you.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts in a sea of burnt orange and white. Texas has won, and the energy in the air is electric. Fans are cheering, hugging, and celebrating as the Longhorns players wave to the crowd before making their way off the field. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement, clapping along as the band strikes up the fight song one last time.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Glen helps you gather your things, and the two of you make your way out of the suite. The halls of the stadium are still buzzing with excitement, fans streaming toward the exits, chatting excitedly about the game. You notice a few people casting glances your way - recognition flickering in their eyes as they realize who Glen is.

You feel a flutter of nervousness in your chest as the looks become more frequent. The idea of being recognized, of suddenly being in the spotlight, is overwhelming. But before the anxiety can take hold, Glen reaches for your hand. His grip is firm, and reassuring, and he gives you a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I'm right here."

His words and his touch soothe you, and you take a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of his hand in yours rather than the curious glances around you. Together, you navigate through the crowd, Glen's presence beside you acting as an anchor, keeping you steady.

As you step out into the cool evening air, the noise of the stadium fades behind you, replaced by the more distant sounds of fans celebrating in the parking lot. The crowd is thinning out, and the atmosphere feels less intense, allowing you to finally relax.

Glen leads you to his truck, and as you approach it, he glances over at you, his expression softening. "So...your first Texas game," he says as he opens the passenger door for you. "What did you think? Did it live up to the hype?"

Your smile, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat. "It really did," you reply, your tone reflecting the surprise in your voice. "I didn't think I'd get so caught up in it, but I did. The energy, the crowd, the way everyone was so passionate...it was contagious."

Glen closes the door and walks around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat beside you. He doesn't start the truck right away, instead turning slightly to face you, his gaze soft and warm.

"I'm really glad you came," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot to me to share this with you."

You feel your heart swell at his words, and you take a moment to let them sink in. "I'm glad I came too," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. "It's not something I ever imagined myself doing, but I'm really happy I did."

Glen reaches out and takes your hand again, his fingers intertwining with yours. "You were a great sport about everything," he says, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Even when Smokey scared the life out of you."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "I'll admit, that was a bit much," you say with a grin. "But honestly, the whole experience was incredible. I see now why it's such a big deal for you."

Glen's smile widens, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, hands clasped, sharing a quiet, meaningful silence. The excitement of the day is still buzzing in your veins, but there's also a deeper feeling - a sense of connection, of understanding, that goes beyond just the game.

"I'm really happy you're here with me," Glen says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion. "This...it all means a lot more with you by my side."

His words hit you in a way you didn't expect, and you realize just how much this day, and this man, have come to mean to you. You squeeze his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the game or the crowd, but everything to do with him.

"I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice just as soft. "With you."

For a moment, the world outside the truck seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the parking lot. It's a moment of quiet reflection, of mutual appreciation, and as you sit there, you realize that this experience has brought you closer to Glen in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Glen starts the engine, but before he shifts into gear, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your lips. It's soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken emotion, a perfect ending to a day you'll never forget.

As he pulls away, you both smile at each other, the bond between you stronger than ever. As the truck rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, you feel a sense of contentment, knowing that this is just the beginning of something truly special.

The next morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, absently twisting the brim of Glen's baseball cap between your fingers. The events of the previous day play on a loop in your mind - Glen's infectious enthusiasm, the electrifying atmosphere of the game, and the way he held your hand, guiding you through it all. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the look in his eyes when he told you how much it meant to him to have you there.

But now, in the quiet of your room, the excitement of the game has given way to do something deeper - an unmistakable warmth in your chest, a feeling that's both exhilarating and a little terrifying. You realize that what started as casual dating has slowly grown into something more. And for the first time, you feel the need to talk to someone about it.

You take a deep breath and scroll through your contacts, landing on your mom's number. The familiar sound of the ringtone fills the room as you hold the phone to your ear, your heart beating a little faster with each passing second. Finally, you hear her voice on the other end, warm and welcoming as always.

"Hi, sweetie! How are you?" Your mom greets you, the sound of her voice instantly soothing some of your nerves.

"Hey, Mom," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm good. Just...thinking about a lot of things."

Your mom chuckles softly. "Well, it sounds like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

You pause for a moment, gathering your thoughts before you begin. "I met somebody, and...he's really great, Mom. he's got these green eyes that I could just get lost in, and he's so sweet. He opens doors for me, he makes me laugh, and he...he doesn't make me cry." Your voice softens as you say the last part, a small admission of how different this feels from anything you've experienced before.

There's a brief silence on the other end, and then your mom speaks, her voice gentle. "He sounds wonderful, honey. Tell me more about him."

A smile spreads across your face as you think about Glen. "He's from Texas, not exactly where we're from, but...when I'm with him, he feels like home. He's got me doing things I never thought I'd do, like going to a football game." You laugh, still a little surprised at how much you enjoyed the experience.

Your mom laughs too, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. "A football game? You? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, right?" you reply, shaking your head at the memory. "He even gave me his hat to wear because I didn't have any Texas gear. And, Mom...I liked it. I really liked it."

There's a pause, and you can almost hear your mom's smile through the phone. "It sounds like you're really falling for this guy."

You bite your lip, the truth of her words sinking in. "I think I am," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Mama...I like him a lot. I even learned the words to the Texas Fight Song."

Your mom's laughter rings through the phone, full of warmth and understanding. "It sounds like he's got you wrapped around his finger," she teases, but there's no judgment in her voice, only happiness for you.

"Maybe he does," you say, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. "But...it feels right, Mom. He feels right."

Your mom's voice softens, a hint of emotion creeping in. "I'm happy for you, sweetheart. Just take things one step at a time, and follow your heart."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

As you end the call, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Talking to your mom has helped you put things into perspective, and you realize that you're ready to see where things go with Glen, no matter where that may lead. The thought of him brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement at what the future might hold.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction

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l8dyvenus · 11 months ago

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PAC - what are peoples first impression of you?

NOTE: this is a general read, take what resonates and leave what does not. if you would like to book a personal reading, my prices are on my page. if you would like a free reading, I do exchanges. thank you for taking the time to read this pac, enjoy loves. 👾

PILE ONE

reading:

< five of pents, ten of cups, nine of cups >

peoples first impressions of you consist of thinking you have a wall. you’re the type of person where someone can look into your eyes or talk to you for five minutes and can tell you’ve been through something. but this is something that you don’t dwell on. if anything they think you don’t want them to pity you. you want them to see you as confident, committed, and stern. that whatever has happened to you didn’t break you, nothing can. you’re like the phoenix. instead of falling you rise up even bigger and better. you turn your weakness into strengths and inspire others with this energy. they think upon first meeting that you have a cold demeanor, you’re nonchalant and take no bullshit, but when they actually get to know you they understand you’re just picky with who you open up to. you’re in the midst of healing, and everyone who comes across you, you bring them down that road too. something about you just first being around people makes them want to open up to you as well. you feel familiar to others, as everything is okay for them to let down that fragile wall and be vague. If you’re a woman, with guys, they think you play hard to get when you in reality you don’t like superficial things. people think you are the entire package, the IT girl/guy. THAT girl/guy. sophisticated, smart, humbled, and only interested in making money and bettering yourself. they think you have a great life ahead and that you’re going far. you could be very spiritual or religious. either way, you like sharing your knowledge and deep intellectual debates with others. people often feel insecure and intimidated by you upon first meeting you, but also can’t help but to be attracted to your pure dark energy. im getting Pisces/8th energy. you could be very ethereal looking or may come of enigmatic to others. people don’t know why they are so heavily drawn to you, but they are. could be to the point of subtle obsession.

PILE TWO

reading:

< three of swords, eight of swords, king of pents >

peoples first impression of you is that they think you are a heart breaker. that you give off good energy that you are a free spirit and carry a lot of spunk. you are on the road to building your success so you don’t spend much time wondering about other people and their business. I’m hearing you don’t stay around in anybodys life for long or it’s hard to keep up with you. you could know a lot of people, have a lot of friends but you could be a very distant person. the type where every one will know you on some social level, but you only pop out to events when you want. people think you’re pretty chill, cool, and detached but also the life of the party. very much into the belief of YOLO. you could be a an Aquarius or have 11th H placements. they think you are very unique and not afraid to express yourself or stand up for people who others think are below them. you could’ve met a lot of people at a social humanitarian event or a lot of your relationships that you built could have started from something you truly believe in or value in the physical world. people think you have a good head on your shoulders and that you’re a very mature person. you may be young but when others speak with you the first time you give them a physical example of how age doesn’t coincide with wisdom. you come off as elegant and classy or speak with a open ethical mind. there’s an airy aura surrounding you and you make people feel like they can speak to you about anything.

PILE THREE

reading:

< seven of wands, six of pents, two of wands >

people think you have a lot of sex appeal. you’re someone feisty and knows how to defend yourself by having a nasty come back when someone try’s to challenge you. but just like you could have a ruthless side, you are a very generous person. your personality could fluctuate or you could just come off very moody. people think you have a lot of energy and is not afraid to stand up and go against something that doesn’t sit right with you. you like to fight for what you believe in and you don’t take no for an answer. you could speak or carry yourself with great authority. your voice may be very loud and clear, or maybe even deep. people think you can control your facial expressions or keep your emotions in check. you come off very passionately about the justice of others and especially your beliefs. upon people first meeting you, you may treat them as if they have already been your friend. asking if they are okay, making sure they don’t feel left out or helping them out if they don’t have something.

PILE FOUR

reading:

< seven of cups, four of wands, three of pents >

other peoples first impression of you is that you may be an idealist, goal oriented, and all over the place. I’m seeing the page of cups even though I didn’t get that card. when I say “all over the place” though, I don’t exactly mean like moody. all over the place as in you have a lot of dreams you want to accomplish, and you are making sure you are putting in your efforts to insure victory. you seem like a party person or someone who likes to socialize. you have connections everywhere or you tend to make friends with people right off of the bat. everybody knows you or wants to be friends with you. you’re more like a leader rather than a follower. you’re funny and outgoing and anybody can just vibe with you. I’m getting heavily “crazy, sexy, cool” type chick/guy. you look hot to a lot of people. sometimes, off first glance, people may only think about that and project their thoughts of you being superficial, but you’re not and when people start talking to you they see you have a lot more to offer than just looks. they think you have a mouth on you too. that you can retort back to any dismissive comments someone throws at you. If you’re a woman, the first thing guys notice about you are either your boobs or curly hair. some people think you give off milf vibes. either way, peoples first impressions of you are that you’re like the cool mom friend or just that one boujee OCD vibrant person.

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starqueensthings · 2 months ago

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crying just a little too hard about this news. RIP to Mr. James Earl Jones… an indisputable legend of cinema and theatre. Thank you for playing such a significant role in my childhood— your gifts, talents, charisma, and generosity are known world wide and will never be forgotten. May the road rise up to meet you, and the wind be always at your back.

#james earl jones #darth vader #mufasa

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clawsdevour · 3 months ago

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‧ ⁺彡daichi bf hcs

wc: 0.5k content warning: fluff, slight smut, aged up, mention of praise, not proofread, post-time skip, my booty writing

ᛝ࣪; ⋆ ᧔ꪫ 🐦‍⬛

ִ-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to treat you with the world's utmost care. His every approach with you is like you're being pampered even if it's the most little acts of love. For example, he'd follow the side walk rule, tie your laces when he notices that they're untied, hold your bags and opens every door for you.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to love just being with you. He'd love to just cuddle with you on the couch cozily as you watch some sort of comedy or romcom. He loves holding you as both of your warmth mixes together, he'd also love giving you kisses on the top of your head.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to love going on road trips with you. He'd book out all the hotels and plan out routes and schedules for the touristy spots so you can both enjoy them together. He'd love just walking around somewhere new with you, exploring the world hand in hand.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to check in with you on the phone while he's out patrolling. He wants to know if you've ate or just overall talking care of your own health. He loves to know what you have been up to the whole day with frequent phone calls, your voice simply just comforts him.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to LOVE when you cook him food. But if what you serve him doesn't taste right, he'd still eat it and tell you it's good because you made it for him with love. His face may tell a different story though...

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to love holding your hands, or having your arms around his biceps. He loves knowing that you want to be with him at his side at all times.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to have your parents absolutely love him. Upon first meeting him he's literally become their son. Daichi's out there helping your parents set up the dinner table and maybe even with the cooking. They love his refreshing and down to earth energy, especially how grounded his love for you is.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to praise you throughout the whole time you're taking him. He loves to pepper you kisses starting from your face down to your torso while saying something like 'you feel so good.. and look so gorgeous beneath me.'

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to put you into a mating press when you want him to go ham inside of you, especially when you're going feral over each other. He enjoys having your legs pushed down all the way down towards your chest, mainly having his strong hands under your plush thighs as he sees them squeeze out from the sides.

-Daichi, the type of boyfriend to have you all cleaned up in bed while holding you to sleep. He'd coo in your ear how you're literally the love of his life as he watches your breathing pace slowly rise and fall, waiting for you to fall asleep before he's able to drift off.

masterlist here

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sapphoherselz · 4 months ago

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howdy!! two literal people have asked for some andreil rec so here they are!! my most favest fics EVER in the first 60 ao3 pages (I'll keep updating tho as I read!)

Not yours to bleed:

The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.

At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.

Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.

**Updates every other Wednesday, whatever hell may come.**

The Sun Still Rises:

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS:

Neil closes his eyes and counts the things that he knows:

One: Death has a name.

Two: He has met Death before. Several times, in fact.

Three: Someone is trying to kill him. Permanently. But it's only kind of working.

Or, the one in which Andrew is the Grim Reaper, Neil is very, very good at dying, over and over and over again. They teach each other a few things over the centuries.

Hearthlines:

The Fae king and queens have gone away, closing the knowes behind them and abandoning their offspring to the mortal world. As the Fae have spread far and wide, their bloodlines thinning if not vanishing forever as they flee from mortal persecution... two Fae have found a way to reopen the knowes - Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama. The Fae regroup once more, the balance of power shifted amongst them, and 'changelings' appear now and then in the mortal population.

Andrew Doe is one of those changelings, a young child suffering in the foster system, shunned by his peers for some reason and hearing voices in his head.

Alex - the latest name gifted to him by a charm - is on the run along with his mother from his father, using their talents as shadow walkers to slide between worlds and stay one step ahead of the powerful Fae. Except even that is not enough anymore. Except that's not Alex's only talent.

*******

An urban fantasy where I throw Fae, necromancy and magic at TFC characters, pretty much!

Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die):

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

Amor Vincit Omnia:

“I said it already,” the man said, “Your cluster.”

“But what does that mean?” Neil asked.

“It means that you are no longer just you,” the man said tersely, “Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.

A Sense8 AU where the foxes all share one subconscious and kick a lot of ass

The Real Thing:

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes.

That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.)

Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

mad girl says she's wolf-proof:

Keeping her grip light on Nina’s throat, Andrea drops her gaze to her plump lips. She smiles—coldly, slowly. Fangs on fangs. Salt tombstones. It is not a nice smile, none of Andrea’s smiles are, but Nina’s eyes are stuck in it regardless. “And I will answer, all the better to eat you with.”

(Andrea Dobson vs girlhood and lycanthropy.)

lessons in caretaking:

Neil was acting shifty, and Andrew knew why; that motherfucker was leaving. Despite the promise between them, Neil was prepping to run. Andrew wasn't upset about that, not at all. After all, if notorious Neil "No-Swing" Josten needed to leave after Andrew admitted his desires regarding his proximity to Neil's shorts, who was Andrew to stop him. But that doesn't explain why Neil was stealing socks, or why he wanted Andrew's clothes.

Whatever. That was probably unrelated.

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards:

They’ve known each other since the Beginning. Not the Beginning Beginning—they didn’t meet until after the War in Heaven, where they kept to their own sides, or until after the subsequent Fall. It wasn’t even until after the Exodus from Eden, but only by a couple minutes. They’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires, sampled all the cuisines the world has to offer, and weathered several very silly fashion trends.

Andrew doesn’t think they’re friends, exactly, but it is natural to become accustomed to the presence of the only other being who has been around more or less consistently for six millennia. It wasn’t anything more meaningful than that.

A Good Omens AU where Andrew is a grumpy angel, Neil is a sharp-tongued serpent, and it takes them literally six thousand years to figure out they belong together.

#aftg #neil josten #andreil #all for the game #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #andreil fic #fic rec #aftg fic rec #aftg fic

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babydollmarauders · 11 months ago

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WRAPPED UP IN A BOW — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n welcomes Quinn home with a gift

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, praise, oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected). (3.1k words)

notes: welcome to day 8 of the 12 days of kinkmas!

a week. seven days. one hundred and sixty-eight hours.

that’s how long my husband has been out of town.

four road games done and over with and now he’s finally coming home to me.

in retrospect, getting married at the very end of the summer wasn't the best decision Quinn and i have ever made. with no time for a honeymoon before he had to be back in Vancouver for training camp, and then hockey season starting, we've had barely any time to relax and bask in the joy of being newlyweds.

which may be why i'm feeling particularly in the holiday spirit. one more home game and then we get almost an entire week to laze around, celebrate the holidays, and just enjoy the life of being newly married.

i’ve spent the last three days decorating our apartment; a wreath on the front door, our tree with ornaments hung gently on the branches, mistletoe over every doorway. miscellaneous holiday themed trinkets are scattered throughout our home.

but my favorite part of the past few days isn’t the decor, or the music i’ve had blasting, or even the christmas cookies i baked. rather, it’s the idea that popped into my head while shopping for all of the said decor online; when i found a body bow.

and after numerous hours, which were impatiently waited through, and countless youtube tutorials, i sit perched upon the end of my bed, wrapped snugly in the red satin bow.

my breasts are tied high and taut, pushed together tightly by the soft fabric and half covered by the oversized bow; while a strip of the satin reaches over one shoulder and through my legs. technically, all intimate areas are covered, but with one tug of the bow, it would all unravel, leaving me naked and ready. a present for my husband to enjoy.

my eyes are glued to my phone, Quinn’s location dancing across the screen, getting closer and closer to our apartment with each passing second.

it’s not often that i would be awake so late, waiting up for him. often times, i’m asleep when he gets back from a roadie, only waking up when i feel his strong arms wrap around me in bed.

as his location pings at our apartment complex, my heart beat rises in my chest, excitement pulling at my every atom. i’m shaky, phone haphazardly tossed onto my nightstand before i get into position; legs crossed and my weight leaned back on my hands.

it feels as though time is dragging on, towing through metaphorical mud. seconds feel like hours as i wait to hear him enter our apartment.

all the lights are off leading into our room, adding to the illusion that he’ll find me fast asleep.

i’m so lost in thought, knees bouncing in exhilaration, that it isn’t until i hear footsteps bounding down the hall that i realize he’s arrived. blood whirls in my ears, my skin heating up at the mere thought of his touch.

“no, she’s probably asleep.” his words carry through the echoey hallway, “Jack, i’m not waking my wife so you can ask her relationship advice. just call her tomorrow.”

i bite back a laugh as i listen to the one sided conversation with his brother. Quinn’s voice turns hushed as he gets closer to our bedroom, obviously attempting not to ‘wake’ me.

the doorknob twists, the door creaking open to display my husband. his head is down, phone pressed to his ear as he carries his road bag into the room. even from here i can see the crease thats formed between his threaded brows, dark bags accentuated under his green eyes.

he turns, gently closing the door behind him with minimal noise, but when he turns back around, his eyes meet mine. his eyes widen, lips parting with a gentle huff of air before he mutters a quick parting to his brother.

“i gotta go, just call her tomorrow.” the call is quickly hung up, his phone set on the dresser with his bag, never breaking eye contact.

“welcome home.” i watch with a crooked smirk as his eyes rake over my figure, slowly dragging down my body before scanning his way back up.

“fucking shit.”

a giggle rises up my throat at his curse, his steps towards me hurried. he sinks down to his knees, eyeing the intricate bow that graces my body. with his hands finding my knees, he carefully pulls my legs apart so that he can fit between them.

“shit, baby,” he pauses, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment, “this all for me?”

i nod, peering down at him with the most innocent eyes that i can summon.

“mhm,” my tone is quiet but sultry, “played so well, and i missed you so much.”

he stands, towering over me now with a dark expression, his pupils blown out in lust.

“yeah? you missed me?” he questions, coaxing a nod of my head, “how bad?”

“so bad, Quinny.” i whine, hands grasping at his tie.

“did you touch yourself? you push your fingers into your pretty pussy? imagine they were mine as you made yourself cum in our bed?”

his words elicit a broken whimper from my throat, my eyelids fluttering as he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, forcing me to tip my head up to him.

“did you imagine my head between your thighs?” his voice drops, “my tongue licking your wet cunt? making you scream?”

my legs are shaking to close, to clench together and bring some much needed relief to my soaked core; but his body blocks me from doing so.

“yes.” i breathe out, eyes closing as he dips down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss.

his tongue slips past my parted lips, the result of a sudden gasp after his fingers curl into my hair, tugging just slightly.

the kiss is messy and deep, tongue’s tangling and pushing against each other, and when he pulls away, saliva coats my lips.

“lay back, baby.”

i drop back at his demand, hair sprawling across the soft mattress behind my head, and watch as best i can as my husband lowers back down to his knees until i can no longer see him.

it’s not but a second later that i feel his soft lips brush against my inner thigh, kissing a path up my leg. an unignorable pulse sparks between my thighs, thumping harder with each kiss, as he gets closer and closer to my wet heat.

wanton moans break the silence of the room, my body quivering with lustful anticipation; but before he can reach the spot in which i need him most, he pulls back, steadily repeating the process on the opposite leg.

a muted whine pulls from my lips as he shifts his path, bypassing my covered core and kissing up my torso. our eyes lock in a heated exchange, neither set looking away, as his open mouthed kisses reach an end, the oversized bow blocking his path.

but just when i think he’ll back away, he captures one tail of the bow between his teeth, slowly pulling back to unravel the satin knot. the glossy fabric falls off my chest, pooling around my body, revealing my bare breasts. my nipples are peaked with desire, stiffened by a mixture of lust and the cold air.

Quinn stares down at me, admiring my exposed figure, before he continues his journey, pressing wet kisses up my sternum. as he reaches my throat, he begins sucking, teeth grazing against my skin before he presses his tongue against it, pulling away to blow cool air against the spot.

shivers travel down my spine, my back arching up into him as he finally presses his lips against mine once more.

“so beautiful.” he mumbles, his hot breath fanning across my lips, swollen and indented with the mark of my teeth.

dragging himself back down to his knees, my jaw slackens as his breath hits my core.

“you’re dripping for me, baby.”

his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up my cunt, and my head tips back further into the mattress, my legs pulled over his shoulders as he groans.

“you really are a fucking gift.” he growls, his fingertips tightening in a bruising grip on my thighs.

my breath catches in my throat, blood rushing to my head as his tongue flattens against my clit. he wiggles it back and forth, softly playing with the bud of nerves.

my hands fly forward, tangling into the fluffy waves of hair that fall onto his forehead. as his tongue tenses, trailing down to flick into my entrance, he spreads my wetness, earning a harsh tug of his hair.

my grip coaxes a laugh of confidence from my husband, his chuckles reverberating through my core, and a screamed cry of pleasure echoes off of our bedroom walls, his name falling from my lips like a solemn prayer.

“Quinn, please,” i whimper, a single digit swiping through my wetness and making my voice falter into a high pitched moan.

“doing so well for me, baby.” his praises set my skin alight, heartbeat thumping in my throat.

his middle finger delves slowly into me, curling up into my g-spot as his lips enclose gently around my clit. pumping in, he slowly gets me ready, slipping his index finger in when he deems me lubricated enough.

my thighs close around his head, his free hand snaking his way around to push my leg open, a choked sob of arousal leaving my throat.

i can feel my orgasm creeping up on me, my stomach tying in knots as my eyes roll back.

suckling at my clit, he rolls it softly between puckered lips, his fingers alternating between hooking upwards and scissoring my cunt, slowly stretching me out and preparing me for his cock.

as his fingers speed and his tongue begins to circle and flick against my clit, my legs shake, hands gripping tighter into his hair while curses fall from my lips.

“Quinn,” tears gather along my waterline at the immense wave of pleasure that rolls through my body, “oh my god, right there!”

the tips of his fingers push against my g-spot with every thrust, my back arching as i can feel myself get closer and closer to the edge.

my husband moans, vibrations carrying through my core and spurring me over the edge. my walls tighten around his fingers, trapping them inside of me, and my hips grind against his soft lips as i reach my release.

heavy breathing sounds through the room as i lay back in ecstasy, recovering from my intense orgasm. pulling his cum coated fingers from my dripping pussy, Quinn’s lips pull away from my swollen clit with a pop.

“you taste like heaven.” he hums, coaxing my eyes to open, watching him suck his fingers clean of my release.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, hands reaching out to pull him forward by his tie as he rises from his knees, “i need you.”

“i’m right here, pretty girl.” he gruffs, a hand resting on the bed next to my head, holding himself up as he hovers above me.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the spot where my jawline meets my ear. trailing up until he reaches my chin, he suddenly diverts, his lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

our lips dance together, his free hand grazing up my body until he reaches my breasts. his thumb rubs over my stiffened nipple, circling it lightly before pinching, the stark contrast drawing a moan from deep within my throat.

i can feel his erection pressing against my upper thigh, my hips jolting up into his in order try and relieve some tension.

pushing lightly at his chest, Quinn immediately backs away, worry filling his eyes, “what’s wrong? did i do something?”

rather than answer, i sit up, beginning to untie his tie. i pull it free from his collar before my hands push at his suit jacket.

“take it off,” i whine as my hands fumble, “all of it, Quinn. i need you. i need to see you.”

his hand cups my cheek, thumb rubbing over my cheekbone as he chuckles, eyes looking into mine.

“get up on the pillows,” he gruffs, watching with fervor as i follow his command, kicking the long forgotten satin fabric off the bed and onto the floor. “good girl.”

sitting with my back propped on the pillows, i watch my husband undress; his suit jacket tossed on the dresser, his button up dropped to the floor as well as the undershirt, before finally the clink of his belt sounds through the silent room.

i admire his upper body as he undresses, mentally praising all the hard work and training that’s led to his muscular arms and tight physique. my mouth waters and i yearn to press kisses to his pale torso, but i stay rooted in my spot, knowing better than to move.

fully naked, his cock stands tall, fully erect with a pink tip, precum beading at the slit, and i don’t think before my hand reaches out, wrapping around his length as he crawls over me.

i squeeze just slightly, my thumb running over his tip and spreading the precum, earning a hiss of satisfaction from my husband.

“stop,” he groans, vocal chords tight, “you want me to fuck you, right?”

i peer up at him with innocence, nodding my head quickly.

“then don’t be a greedy little slut,” my hand drops at his words, allowing him to take a deep breath, “hands and knees, baby.”

i scramble into position, craning my neck to watch his facial expressions as he grabs his base, guiding his cock through the lubricant of my residual cum.

my body shivers as he glides himself through my slick folds, wetting his dick thoroughly. he slides over clit, my legs instantly wobbling as i make a silent squeak.

“Quinn,” my voice shakes, but before i can continue, he’s pushing into me, my back contorting as he runs a hand over my spine.

“that’s it, baby,” he coos after i let out a loud moan, “take it like a good girl.”

i reach back with one hand, desperately grappling behind me for his touch. my request is granted when he grabs my hand, holding it in earnest as his other holds my hip.

“fuck me,” i cry, pushing backwards to sheath him entirely inside of me, “please, i need you to fuck me.”

Quinn clicks his tongue against his teeth, my head hanging forward as he stills, teasing me. i part my lips to begin begging again, but he silences me quick, pulling entirely out before slamming back into me.

he drops my hand in favor of gripping both hips, fucking into me with harsh and unforgiving thrusts.

my arms feel like jello beneath me, quivering with every graze of his tip against my g-spot, until finally i fall to my elbows.

his thighs smack against mine, each thrust pushing me further up the bed until i have to place my palms on the headboard, keeping me steady as my knees dig into the memory foam mattress.

“so fucking wet,” he grunts, pulling my focus to the lewd sounds of his cock sliding through my wetness, “my pretty fucking wife, so ready for me; so easy to please.”

i whine at the use of ‘wife’, the title still bringing goosebumps to the top of my flesh.

“yours,” i gasp, eyes rolling back as he slows his strokes, angling his hips for his cock to run over my g-spot, “all yours. your wife.”

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he breathes, “you like being my wife? you like letting me fuck you and call you mine? forever.”

his hand slides to my front, sprawling over my stomach before dipping down to let his finger apply pressure to my pulsing clit.

“yes!” i squeal, hips jerking from the pleasure, “yes, Quinn, yes!”

his finger draws circles on my clit, thrusts speeding as i clench around him.

“who am i?”

my stomach fills with pressure, toes curling as my hair falls into my face.

“my husband!” i scream, legs shaking underneath me.

his finger never relents, my overworked clit tingling, and i can barely stutter out that i’m close before he’s leaning forward, pressing kisses to my sweat coated back.

his soft lips against my heated skin send me over the edge, my eyes drawing shut as i let out an intense breathy moan. my walls clench but his thrusts never ease, only fucking into me with more intensity as he chases his own high, and within a minute, he finds it.

his hips falter, his grip tightening on my hips as he lets out a strangled cry, ropes of cum spilling out of him and mingling with my own.

it’s silent as he stops, nothing but heavy pants and the squelching sound of him pulling out, before he lays down, finally allowing me to drop onto my stomach beside him.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, my face buried into the pillow beside him, and he reaches over to scoop me into his arms, helping turn my body until my head is resting in the crook of his neck.

“what a welcome home present.” he laughs, still out of breath, and i giggle into his neck.

“figured you might like that.” i yawn, eyes fluttering shut as i rest a hand on his chest, “well worth staying up.”

“hey,” he coos, head back away in order to look at me. i pry my eyes open, staring up into his, “don’t go falling asleep yet, baby. you need a bath.”

i groan, attempting to burrow further into him, “but i’m so tired.”

he rolls his eyes at my drawn out whine, gently nudging me off of him so he can stand up.

“i’m gonna go draw a bath and get some wine. you don’t fall asleep.”

i nod sleepily, pulling myself up in a sitting position to keep myself from dozing off.

it’s not but five minutes later that Quinn returns, helping me into his arms and carrying me into the bathroom. he sets me down into the hot water of the bubble bath, grabbing the wine glasses off the counter and handing them to me before he slips in behind me, taking his glass back.

having out a deep sigh, i relax into his chest, his free arm wrapping around the front of my waist.

“so,” i start, making him laugh at my tired tone, “how was the trip?”

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #vancouver canucks #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #faithlynn’s writings <3

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milliesfishes · 3 months ago

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could u pls write something suuper fluffy and sweet for coriolanus? maybe it’s snowed badly and coriolanus is working from home giving reader all the more access to him and all the more needy for his love or maybe reader got a little tooo drunk at a gala and now he has to (gets to) carry her home and take care of her.

thank uuu i loce ur work 💓

౨ৎ꣑ৎsnow day with coryo౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

When you wake up to a blanket of white coating the world outside your window, it makes you smile. The roses are icy, the grass invisible. The only thing in sight as far as the eye can see is the storm. Large flakes melted against the glass panes, and you reached for your blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. It always felt nice to be cozy during a storm.

The other side of the bed was empty, as expected. Coriolanus would have woken up well before you, rising to greet his work. You could picture him removing his arm from around you and pressing a kiss to your hair before standing and going to get dressed.

Humming to yourself, you thought about going down to get a pot of tea and then bringing it back up here so you could read all bundled in your blanket. It sounded like the perfect start to the day.

Getting up and grabbing your dressing gown, you folded it around yourself and exited your room. Sure, you could have had a maid bring it up, but you wanted to make the tea yourself. The kitchen staff was accustomed to seeing you down there.

Pausing at the entrance to Coriolanus' office, you noticed the light was on. Unusual. Pushing the door open, you expected to see a servant cleaning. The sight that instead greeted you was that of your husband, brow creased as he pored over paperwork.

Tilting your head in confusion, you stepped in, coming closer to him. Once he heard you, he looked up, a tight smile crossing his face. "Darling."

"What's this?" you asked curiously, gesturing to the scene. Even though he was at home, he was wearing his suit, jacket was folded over a nearby chair, the tie loosened.

"The roads are too icy," he explained absentmindedly, scribbling something down. "I decided to work from home today."

Smiling softly, you moved in, putting a hand on his arm and resting your chin on his head. The corners of his lips turned up, but he raised his eyebrows. "I'm supposed to be working."

"May I keep you company?" you murmured, rubbing his shoulder. "I was only planning to read. But I'd like it so much more if I could be near you."

A real smile hinted at his features, and he took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and leaning back in his chair. Kissing your fingers, he nodded, icy blue eyes meeting yours. But you melted the surface.

"I'm making tea," you smiled, leaning in to kiss him once. "I'll be right back. With a cup for you too."

Indeed, you returned not twenty minutes later, your book and blanket in hand, balancing two mugs of tea hooked by your fingers. He laughed at the sight of you, standing and taking the drinks before they could slide from your hands and shatter.

You wrapped your blanket around yourself and curled up in the chair across from him, opening your book and beginning to read. Every now and then as you flipped the pages you could feel his eyes on you, which was lightening. Always protective, always checking on you.

At about one, he stood up, pushing back his chair. Thinking he was stretching or going off to the washroom, you ignored him. But when you felt his arms wrap around your collarbone, a smooth kiss pressed to your cheek, you smiled, bringing one hand to touch his face from behind. "Everything alright?"

"You look comfortable," he muttered against you.

"I am," you whispered, tracing his cheek.

Coriolanus nudged your cheek with his nose. "Care to take this somewhere else? I'm done working for the day."

You giggled, nodding and reaching up for him. "You want to cuddle?"

"Maybe." He leaned down, sliding his arms underneath you to lift your body into his arms. Coriolanus made sure to keep the blanket wrapped around you as he carried you all the way back to your bedroom, laying you down on the bed and settling down beside you.

Spreading the blanket over the two of you, he pulled you in and cuddled close, holding you snug against his chest. Turning your head to the side, you watched the snow drift to the windowsill.

He lazily pressed kisses to your face, brushing aside a piece of hair to access you further. You nuzzled your face against him, happily cozy in his arms.

"I wish you would take days off more often," you murmured against him. He stroked your side, tugging your leg to be positioned over his.

"I know," he said softly into your hair. "I know, my love." He breathed in softly, nestling another kiss into your hairline. "But that just makes it more special, doesn't it?"

Lifting your head, you raised your eyebrows, a skeptical smile taking over your face. "You're being annoying."

Coriolanus laughed lightly, pulling the blanket tighter around you. "Oh, darling..." he kissed you lightly, rubbing your back. "I do love you."

"I love you," you echoed, resting your head over his heart and closing your eyes. As the storm raged outside and colored the roads in ivory, you laid there safe against the man you loved, warm in his arms.

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow imagines #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games #thg tbosas #thg series #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #milliesfishes coryo

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misshoneyimhome · 8 months ago

Text

250 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“I like waking up with you” I Nico Hischier

Summary; While Nico Hischier may struggle with expressing his emotions, leading to occasional frustrations and arguments, a strong relationship can withstand any challenge.

Tropes & warnings; no warnings; strangers to lovers, couples fight; very mild-smut descriptions;

Other notes; so as I finished, I sort of realised that it doesn’t really have much plot - it’s just pure fluff; still hope it’s readable 😅 inspired by the lyrics from ‘PILLOWTALK’ by Zayn Malik 🤍

Word count; 1.7K

➼｡ﾟ

You and Nico fell in love quicker than you ever imagined possible. In a way, it felt as if fate had brought you together on purpose, weaving your lives into a beautiful tapestry of love and passion. It was as simple as the fairy tales you grew up with; from the moment you met him on that crisp autumn evening, you knew your life would change forever. It was love at first sight.

Your love story began at something as simple as a charity event for the New Jersey Devils, right at the start of the hockey season. It was a night filled with glamour and excitement, the room adorned in the team's red, white, and black colours.

You were there as a friend of one of the team’s partners, however, as the event had unfolded, you suddenly found yourself standing alone, without the companion you’d arrived with.

Yet, in a mere moment, lost in thoughts as you gazed into thin air, among the buzzing crowd, your eyes suddenly met Nico Hischier's. His big, brown golden eyes captivated you instantly, sparking a connection you simply couldn't deny.

And to your surprise, Nico confidently made his way through the crowd in your direction, never breaking eye contact. And when he stood before you, his smile was nothing but magnetic.

"Hello," he said, his voice smooth with a hint of a sweet yet rough accent. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Though his boldness took you aback, there was just something about him that had you drawn in. And before you knew it, you were engrossed in deep conversation, completely oblivious to the world around you.

"I must admit," Nico said with a playful glint in his eyes, "I didn't expect to meet someone as captivating as you at this event."

His words warmed you, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. "I could say the same about you," you replied with a soft smirk, completely unable to look away from him.

And as the night then progressed, you felt an unexpected strong and deep connection to the Swiss captain, as if you'd known each other for ages. So as the evening slowly drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that this might just be the beginning of something extraordinary.

To say the least, you were absolutely right. As the weeks passed and turned into months, your connection with Nico only grew stronger. And before long, despite your initial hesitation, you moved from being just good friends to something definite more.

It was no secret between you, that you’d had concerns, influenced by the idea of dating a professional hockey player with a demanding lifestyle and packed schedule. However, Nico dispelled those worries with his steadfast commitment to you. He didn't just start calling you his girlfriend sooner than expected; he proudly introduced you to everyone as his partner anywhere you went, demonstrating his dedication through every word and deed. In a way, it was quite remarkable how, despite the demands of his career, he always found time for you, placing your relationship above all else.

Because Nico's life as a hockey player did indeed involve frequent travel, rigorous training sessions, and the pressure of performing on the ice. There were nights when he returned home exhausted, his body aching from a challenging game. Yet, even in those moments, he never failed to show you love and appreciation. Whether through a heartfelt text before bed or a lengthy phone call while on the road, he made sure you felt valued and cared for.

And especially one aspect of your relationship that remained constant was the physical connection you shared. The chemistry between you was electric, igniting flames of desire that grew hotter with each passing moment. Your intimate moments together were nothing short of explosive, leaving you both breathless and exhilarated every time.

Incredible sex became a defining feature already in the very beginning of your relationship, the kind that would make the neighbours blush and the walls tremble. But you never paid any attention to the noise complaints or the curious glances from passers-by. In those moments of passion, it was just you and Nico, lost in each other's embrace, consumed by the intensity of your love.

During those intimate moments, you felt the deepest connection with Nico, as the barriers between you dissolved and you revealed your souls to each other in the most vulnerable and intimate way possible. Every time you lay intertwined in the aftermath, your bodies still tingling with pleasure, you were certain that you were in love.

However, naturally, challenges arose along the way. No relationship is without its flaws, including yours. Arguments erupted over missed dates or suddenly cancelled plans, tensions escalating like an impending storm. Yet, as always, Nico had a knack for smoothing over rough patches, turning conflict into connection. With just a smile or a tender gesture, he could transform the atmosphere between you from a war zone into a paradise.

It was a turbulent relationship, to say the least. Nico's ability to express his absolute joy and deep love for you was unmatched, his affection evident in every touch and whispered word. But beneath that outward display of affection lay a layer of resilience and reticence when it came to his concerns and fears.

And it didn't take you long to notice that he tended to bottle up his negative emotions, keeping his worries hidden deep inside. Nico was skilled at putting on a brave face, particularly as the team captain, even when the weight of the world seemed to be bearing down on him. And while you admired his strength and resilience, it also led to frustration and tension between you.

There were times when you wished he would open up, and share his fears and insecurities with you. However, whenever you broached the subject, he would shut down, enveloping himself in silence. In those moments, the distance between you almost felt insurmountable, like an unbridgeable chasm. But, no matter how bad your arguments could be, Nico never let you go to bed angry or sad.

One evening, after a rather heated argument, you sat on the edge of his bed, tension thick between you.

"I'm sorry, y/n," Nico said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to shut you out like that. Sometimes I just feel the need to be strong for everyone else, and I forget that it's alright to lean on you too."

His words resonated deeply within you, highlighting the complexities of his role both on and off the ice. You reached out, taking his hand and gently squeezing it as you met his gaze.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Nico," you reassured him, your voice gentle yet firm. "I'm here for you, through thick and thin. We're a team, remember?"

And a faint smile slowly grew and played on Nico's lips as he nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I know," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "And I'm thankful for you every day, y/n. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Navigating the highs and lows of your relationship required a delicate balance. Yet, through it all, your love for each other remained unwavering, and you were determined to face the challenges together, hand in hand.

In fact, maintaining this steadfastness was surprisingly simple; Nico never allowed you to even consider the idea of walking away. And truth be told, you had no desire to. Despite the ups and downs, everything between you felt pure, raw, and intensely passionate.

The past year had been nothing but a whirlwind for both of you, with highs of victories and lows of defeats. Throughout it all, you had been each other's support, standing strong through thick and thin. And with the off-season offering a brief break from the hockey season's demands, you cherished every moment spent together, aware that Nico would soon be back on the ice, fully engrossed in the game.

Then as the autumn leaves then began to change, marking the start of a new season, Nico's excitement was beyond palpable. He simply couldn't contain his joy at the prospect of another year filled with his beloved sport and the woman who had captivated his heart.

And as you lay together in the gentle morning light, Nico's words enveloped you like a warm embrace, filling you with love and affection. His vulnerability caught you off guard, as his declaration of love lifted your spirits.

"I like waking up with you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion, echoing the sentiment you had shared countless times before.

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth flooding through you at the depth of his affection. You gently reached out, brushing your fingers against his stubbled jaw as you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips.

“I like waking up with you too…” you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness.

But it was evident there was more on his mind. "I can’t believe I have you in my life... I love you, y/n…" Nico's voice quivered with emotion, his gaze locked on yours as if seeking reassurance.

And you couldn’t deny the way your heart swelled with love for him, mirrored in the depths of his gaze. "Nico," you whispered, reaching out to stroke his hair, "I love you too, more than words can express."

The moment hung heavy with emotion and possibility. Then, with a surge of determination, Nico voiced the question he'd been pondering for a while.

"Move in with me, y/n," he implored, hope and longing evident in his eyes. "Please. I want us to wake up together every day, fall asleep in each other's arms. Will you move in with me?"

And you couldn’t help but let a tear slowly well in your eye at the sincerity of his request, overwhelmed with love for the man before you. So without hesitation, you simply enveloped him in your arms, whispering your answer in his ear.

"Yes, Nico," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion, "Of course I'll move in with you.”

As you held each other in the gentle dawn light, surrounded by the promise of a new beginning, you knew this was just the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your love story. With Nico by your side, you felt ready to face whatever the future held, confident that together, you could overcome anything.

#250 followers festival #nico hischier imagine #nico hischer x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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whalesforhands · 10 months ago

Text

kaizen daycare! 1

summary: you love taking care of such adorable children, and they love you in return. however, it seems that you’ve garnered more than just the attention of some cute kids.

previous masterlist next

You rejected him again.

“So how about tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up for dinner at my place?” His genteel smile, his captivating eyes, black hair draping over his shoulders as he’s leaning down slightly to stand before you, his three children long strapped into their seats within his car to ensure that they don’t overhear his conversation.

(Note that they could still very much see him, twins practically clambering over Megumi to get a better view of you two through the car window.)

Your pretty eyes are shifty, averting away from him as you scratch at your cheek. “Mmm, I’m afraid I won’t be available tomorrow, Geto-san.”

He’s already deflating, a barely put-together smile starting to give way to a frown as he nearly fails to hide his disappointment. He shouldn’t push you for a reason, right?

(Right…?)

“Ahh, I see. I suppose we could plan for another day, then.” He’s not going to hound you for an answer if you won’t tell him voluntarily.

“I’m really thankful for the invitation though, I’m sure you and your husband make great food!” A cute grin overtakes your face as your eyes turn into adorable crescents, a hand placed on your cheek. “I surely wouldn’t mind getting to eat the extra cookies you bake all the time.”

His heart melts. You’re forgiven.

Geto Suguru wants to slam his head into the steering wheel. Cookies, cookies— They were just made as an excuse to give way to longer conversations with you—!

“Papa, are you okay?” Mimiko’s shy voice is heard along the ride home, the passing streetlamps giving a warm glow to the interior of the car in contrast to the otherwise darkened, gloomy atmosphere of their father.

“Papa is… Just fine…” If getting rejected by someone as lovely as you 6 times in a row is considered fine, anyway. “Thank you for asking, dear.” He’s basically sulking as his eyes are kept on the road, a deep sigh leaving him as he turns a corner.

Eh? Mimiko really doesn’t think he’s fine at all. Did something upset him today?

“Oh, oh! Nanako knows why, Mimi!” The excited blonde is jumping in her seat as she raises an arm in the air, as if waiting to be called upon. “Gumi and I figured it out wayyyyy fast!”

“It wasn’t hard.” Megumi is almost looking triumphant, cute, chubby arms crossed and proud.

“…Is that so, sweethearts?” Suguru’s eyes flicker to the rear view mirror, amethyst purple meeting overjoyed brown and blank green that nods at his sister’s antics. “Care to tell what you think is making Papa sad?”

(There’s no way they figured it out, right? They may be his kids, but still…)

“Cause…” A contemplative finger on her lip as she lets the tension of unknowing rise for dramatic effect, an innocent grin on her cute face. “Cause Daddy and Papa are hopeless at getting (name)-sensei’s attention!”

Geto Suguru really wants to slam his head into the steering wheel now.

——

“AHAHAH!” There’s a loud laughter about the room now that Gojo Satoru has appeared, bathrobe around his form and towel in his hair as he kicks his feet into the air whilst laying down, held within Suguru’s embrace as he holds his stomach.

“Can’t— Hahah!” He’s struggling to breathe, a deep intaking of air as he gasps. “Pfft, believe how that sensei is so~ oblivious.” He wipes a tear from his eye, his voice finally finding itself as he rolls onto his side to face his pouty husband.

“Aren’t you laughing a little too much, Satoru?” The red on Suguru’s cheeks is very apparent as the shame manifests itself on his face. How many failures does he need? Geto Suguru was so sure that you had liked them, would even go as far as believing that you definitely had the hots for them.

(Because, who wouldn’t?)

“Aww, is wittle Suguwu hwurt?” An arm props his head up to better see his the blushing red of his husband. “Want a wittle kissy? Satoru will indulge you— OW!” He feels himself lose balance before his back his flat against the bed, an unimpressed Suguru atop of him.

Narrowed purple and playful blue meet as the black-haired male continues to straddle him. “Not the point, Satoru.” A pat to the smiling man’s cheek. “We haven’t made progress at all—“

“Don’t worry your pretty head off about our adorable teacher.” A smirk as Geto feels a hand trail up his thigh, exceeding close to the boxers he donned for bed.

“I got just the plan.” A wink as he grabs his waist, using his body weight to roll them over so that he would be the one on top, a loving hand stroking Suguru’s cheek.

“And I’m certain it’ll work this time~”

——

“Good morning… You’re awfully early today, Gojo-san…” A yawn escapes your lips as you hold a still sleeping Nanako in your arms, cradling her close and stroking her head as Gojo held the other two.

(You look awfully domestic. It makes his heart all the more softer at the sight.)

“And I’m sorry for that, sweet thing.” He adjusts a stirring Mimiko in his hold. “The family’s been too busy with our move lately, ya know? Gotta drop them off early to get the rest of the boxes.” His grin is ever bright as he follows you into the daycare, his footsteps light and his body close as they tested the limits of your boundaries.

(Truth was, he didn’t even need to move any boxes or anything. He just wanted to see you.)

“You must be working very hard, Gojo-san.” You hum quietly as you reach the nap area, the nightlights on and encompassing the room with their comfy glow as you gently kneel down to place a still sleeping Nanako onto a mattress, the man’s shoulder grazing yours as he placed the rest of his kids together.

“I think the change of pace is worth it. The relocation is gonna be a benefit to all of us.”

(My, is the new home that good?)

“It must be exhausting having to move houses, though.” You take this chance to poke at one of the mochi-like cheeks of Megumi, watching as his little nose twitches. “I hope you’re letting them get enough rest, Gojo-san.”

“Oho, plenty!” A glimmer of his teeth as you catch his bright smile. “You could even say they’re so excited, they can barely sleep thinking about yo— It.”

You’re humming as you follow-up with the light chatter, just happy to be able to have such light-hearted conversation with the man, ignoring how his fingers brushed against your own when you both reached for the blanket at the same time.

(This isn’t the time to think about such things! And he’s married!)

Unlike his husband, Gojo Satoru always seemed so hard to read, so hard to approach even after you’ve seen the softer, sweeter sides of him.

He was simply… Intimidating in his own right.

There is an odd, palpable air inbetween the two of you as the silence starts to drag, a gaze that’s seemingly stuck on you that hints and twinges between the line of unsettling. Hmm… You must be kind of tired today.

“Say, Gojo-san.” You’re getting up, patting off your apron and the almost scary tension as you lead him out the nap room. “Is your place near this area? I’ll be happy to help you find your way around.” Your back is turned to him as you gently close the door.

(You turn around only to meet the same intense blue, looking like they were glaring into your very being.)

“Well, we just moved into the apartment complex not far from here.” He takes a pause to tuck a loose strand of your hair back that your drowsy form fails to take note of. “I think it was—” His intense eyes glance downwards meet your dazed own, playful and prodding blue to the innocently awaiting you.

(So cute.)

“Akutami Estate.”

Your once sleepy self perks up at that mention, certainly recognizing that name.

“What a coincidence, Gojo-san! I happen to live within that building too!”

“That so? My, what a coincidence indeed.” His returning grin is bright, but his eyes are hard to read considering the sunglasses that had been slid back in place to hide them from your view.

“So, how about a little housewarming dinner tonight? My place, of course.”

There’s no way you can refuse now, right?

previous masterlist next

Notes:

“Shokoooooo…!” You’re whining as you sat on her chair, making grabby hands for her whilst slumped into the plush seat.

“You’re awfully needy today. What’s the matter?” She’s patting your head as you suddenly lean forward to wrap your arms around her hips, your face dug into her side as you muffled incoherent words into her doctor’s coat.

“What? Don’t speak with my clothes in your mouth.”

You pull away, pouting up at her with what looked like glossed over eyes. “I think I just doomed myself…”

“Huh?”

#kdc au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader

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yoonia · 2 months ago

Text

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xxiii

⟶ Chapter summary | He may not be the Prince Charming written in fairy tales, but in your eyes, he seems perfectly yours. Even with many secrets lying between you, a part of you insists to put faith in him, to trust him, even with your secrets. Besides, there is a good reason why fate answered your prayers by allowing you to meet him again, shouldn’t it?

chapter xxiii. serendipity-3

The sun has finally gone out. The bright sky is now painted in vibrant colours of blue, faded teal, and purple as dusk slowly melts into night. Up above, the stars are beginning to show their presence, looking like pixie dust spreading into the night.

Once the pixies welcomed Yoongi into their circle, he was sat down by the curious pixies to endure the same questioning as you had.

“Where did you come from?”

“How did you cross the border?”

“Is that a real sword? Is it heavy? Have you ever hurt anyone with it? Have you ever hurt yourself?”

“Your hair is so soft. What did you put in it?”

You had to hold back a smile while he went through it, yet your own curiosity rose when Yoongi visibly tensed and surprised when he heard Illyn asking, “Did you also walk past the fairy portal in the woods?”

It didn’t take long for the pixies to lose interest in Yoongi, however, as fireflies began to come out of their hiding once it grew dark and caught their attention. Seems like they have yet to run out of energy, even after playing the whole day and the entire afternoon, as they are now busy chasing the fireflies and slipping between the thickening white mist rising around the riverbank. The sound of their joyful giggles echoes through the evening as you join Yoongi on a stroll along the length of the river, spending the last hour that you have left before you have to run home.

The thought of having to say goodbye when you barely have enough time to share with Yoongi saddens you. Yet you try to make the best of it. You don’t even resist when Yoongi insists on holding your hand when he helps you jump across a small puddle, and you say nothing when he still keeps your hand in his as you slowly make your way back towards the elven town.

“It feels really peaceful here, doesn’t it?” you muse with a sigh as you look up beyond the canopy of leaves above your head, marvelling at the colours showing in the sky—colours you wouldn’t normally see back home—and the sparkle of stars now filling the sky.

Far ahead of you, just beyond the tree line, the elven town lights up. Golden lights emerge through the open windows, lanterns hanging from the houses and on the small roads illuminate the rest of the town, and each sparkle of light is reflected on the waterfall that gleams brighter in the night.

“Aren’t you afraid of the dark?” Yoongi asks, almost teasingly, “There is barely any light here, under the trees, and starlight can’t really reach us once we get deeper into the woods.”

You glance around, seeing the contrasting sight of the dark forest filled with nothing but unmoving shadows against the brightening town. Before, it would have been daunting for you to travel into these woods, when the only colours you’d see are the white mist crawling on the ground and the fog forming from your breath. But after the chilling darkness and the daunting sights you find during your previous trips, this kind of darkness doesn’t incite any uneasiness rushing through your skin.

The cold breeze doesn’t make you shiver. The cricket sounds echoing from the riverbanks, the faint night birdsong, and the echoes of the giggling and humming sounds of the pixies only give you a sense of calmness. Yoongi’s gentle hold on your hand and his warm presence make you feel secure enough to stare into the darkness and walk through it.

“No, I’m not afraid,” you simply answer him with a smile. “Compared to where I’ve been lately, this place feels more like heaven. And what should I worry about when I have you here with me?”

Yoongi lowers his eyes as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “Have you missed me while I was gone?”

“No. Not really,” the lie easily slips out of your lips, and the corners of his lips rise to a smile.

A deep chuckle escapes him, causing your heartbeat to trip. Air slowly leaves your lungs as he gently opens his eyes, showing you the deep gaze which haunts your thoughts whether you are in slumber or when you are awake. “You look pretty even when you lie,” he whispers with a low voice.

Turning away from him, you take a deep, long breath. You have no idea if the heat rising on your cheeks came from his words or the way he is looking at you. “You always speak as you please.”

“Yet I’m not the one who is lying,” he replies, and you can almost hear his smile before your eyes find him again. “That’s me saying that I don’t believe you. Not for one second.”

Your cheeks are flushed, his words become a spell that makes your heart race and your hope bloom like wildflowers. And then the feeling is made worse when you turn to face Yoongi, capturing the deep longing in his gaze which mirrors yours perfectly that your words begin to spill out. “And if I tell you that I missed you, what would you do?”

His chest rises with a sharp breath. The intense look in his gaze makes it hard for you to breathe and you cannot understand why. “I will cherish it,” he says, his voice sounding firm and sure that you find no reason to be doubtful. “The thought of you thinking about me in my absence brings me joy like no other.”

Your throat feels dry. Your heart feels like it is about to jump out of your chest the first chance it gets.

“Always so charming with your words.”

A ghost of a smile appears on his face, and then it is gone. “Yet none of it is a lie.”

“I believe you,” you whisper with a sigh, and you mean it. because you can see it—you can feel it—simply by looking into his eyes. For a moment, you find it hard to look away. You despise ever thinking about having to look at other things but his face, to even look away from his eyes that are sometimes more honest than his words.

But then the sound of wild giggles seems to be coming closer, the fluttering movements of the pixies entering the trees break the spell forming between you, and Yoongi is the one to give in first with a smile.

“Now, shall we enjoy the rest of the evening? Maybe see what they are up to now before I send you home?”

Home.

The thought of having to walk away from this place, from him, is eating you from the inside. Yet you try to push it down, silently hoping—praying—that this wouldn’t be the last evening that you would be spending with him.

“All right. Lead the way.”

Yoongi is left astonished at what is happening at this moment.

Right before his eyes, the pixies are dancing and singing together, giving the two of you a show in an opening they found in the middle of the forest. Here, the moonlight is shining brightly from above, as if creating a special stage for them to perform their little celebration. And you are standing right beside him, enjoying this view together with him, with your hand entwined with his and shoulder brushing against his as you gently sway to the song the pixies are singing.

He secretly steals a glance at your face without you realising it. He wants to commit this moment to his memory; the look of awe on your face as you watch the pixies dancing before you; your eyes that are glowing with amusement and pure joy; the delicate way your fingers seem to sink into his palm, as if they belong there.

For the first time after quite some time, Yoongi feels at ease. Perhaps being with you helps, feeling your presence nearby and the touch of your hand in his becoming his anchor.

For the past week, he felt as if his life was going out of control. But with you, he feels like everything is slowly falling into place, and he simply wants to hold on to everything before it slips away from his hold.

Smiling, Yoongi turns his attention back to the pixies. The song they are singing seems to rouse a peculiar sensation within him. It fills him with joy and—amusingly—raw pleasure that he had only ever felt from drinking the strongest ales created by the hands of the moon fairies of Emburn.

He shouldn’t be surprised to feel this kind of sensation simply by listening to the pixies’ tune. He has learned quite a lot about pixies after his previous journeys and his various close encounters with beings of their kind. Many may not have known this, but their magic dust isn’t the only thing that is special about the pixies. The song they sing, the tune and the words they hum, are said to be magical, acting like a spell to incite various sensations within other beings—mostly humans, as they are the most vulnerable beings against magic.

As he continues to watch their performance and feels as if he is no longer carrying unwanted weight on his shoulders, his troubles forgotten and feeling only hope blooming in his chest, Yoongi wonders if the song that they are singing is the kind of spell that only brings joy. The kind that often causes dream-like experiences for other beings like himself, and others like you.

Needing this escape, Yoongi allows himself to relish this feeling for a moment longer, to enjoy this moment with you, before he begins worrying about other matters.

One of which is trying to make things right with you, when his lack of presence as of late may have placed him a few steps behind from what he wanted to achieve by following you through the portals. All he wanted was to become closer, not to feel as if you were a world apart from him even when you are right beside him.

He wanted to win your trust, and perhaps one day, he can win your heart. But how would he be able to do so if he kept missing from your life whenever you needed him?

“Forgive me for not being able to join you during your previous trips. I had somewhere else to be, and not one of my excursions ever led me to your path.” Yoongi says as he walks beside you, continuing your stroll along the river once he can sense that your time here is slowly coming to an end.

You and Yoongi have left the pixies behind you, still enjoying their time partying in the forest with more and more other pixies joining in to form a bigger circle. The last time Yoongi turned to glance over his shoulder, the pixies’ dancing had become so intense that he began seeing golden dust sparkling all around them, their rapid dancing and the spells they were singing brought together magic pixie dust to illuminate the forest around them.

Those pixie dust have now scattered all over the gravelled pathway before him, as the wined pixie kept floating across to drop the magical dust to help light up the way, allowing the two of you to see clearly through the darkening woods.

Muted golden glow from the magic dust spreads all around him, the lights reflecting perfectly on your face that Yoongi cannot look away. In his eyes, you look as if you are walking among the stars, up there in the night sky, and he is floating with you like a shadow, protecting you from the night.

He has pictured this moment many times before, when he was walking down the royal garden or through the halls within the Imperial Palace, wishing that you were by his side. Wishing that he was spending time with you instead of with the bratty princess who was more than happy to play along with the Empress’ ploy in keeping him back home. Now that this is finally happening, it seems hard for his mind to accept that this is his reality and not just a figment of his imagination, his wishful thinking playing tricks on him to make him believe that this is real.

“I—wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to see you today, to be honest,” Yoongi painfully admits, while recalling how hard it was for him to escape from the palace today.

It was his own fault for getting him in such a situation, after all.

He shouldn’t have traded the dance that he wanted so badly to avoid with a promise. A promise that he regretted the moment he stepped into the royal garden, when he realised too late that he had made a deal with the wrong force.

What Yoongi had imagined to be a swift affair, a simple afternoon tea to appease the royal brat of a princess where all he had to do was sit and act nice while she gushed and gossiped about life within the empire, had turned out to be everything that was not.

The entire encounter had instead turned mostly peculiar.

Princess Celestyna has always worn the facade of a coy and almost naive and child-like, just like any other sheltered and spoiled princess he has ever met. But this afternoon, as she sat at the table set up for their little ‘date’, the princess had shed her entire facade and worn a new persona. Her presence emitted arrogance and an eerie calmness that made him feel uneasy. He was just about to call everything off when the princess dropped a bomb on him.

“I know that this is the last place you would rather be, Your Highness,” she said to him between taking dainty sips of her tea, with a gaze that carried a peculiar look to which Yoongi felt cautious. But then his blood ran cold when she added, “Do you know the real reason why I followed my father to visit your empire and meet the Empress? You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The air is changing. You cannot tell me you have no idea what, or who is causing it.”

Realisation dawned in Yoongi back then, just as everything that he noticed about the realm upon his return came back to him; the turbulence he felt welcoming him home in waves; the stillness in the air; and the imbalance of magic.

Before Yoongi could process things further, or inquire the princess about the secrets that she seemed to be offering him, he felt the ripple of magic rising at the back of his mind. It was subtle enough so that he knew he would be the only one who could feel it, and he immediately knew that it was the moment you stepped into a portal.

Yoongi was caught between staying, accepting the princess’s olive branch, and the fear of losing the chance to see you again, so for a moment, he nearly faltered. But his wish to see you again prevailed. He felt your presence calling for him, pulling at his soul, and it gave him the willpower to walk away and race through the portal to catch up with you.

“You won’t be able to keep running, Your Highness,” the princess called out to him just as Yoongi began to walk away, “You can try to avoid me as much as you want to or deny what must happen for as long as you can, but you must know that you won’t be able to change anything.”

Yoongi shakes his head, shaking away the memory of the unpleasant encounter from his mind. He hates that even now, when he is supposed to be enjoying his time with you, that second princess of the Kosha Empire still dares to invade his mind—just like how she has been trying to invade his entire life.

“It wasn’t easy, and I debated if I should risk making this trip at the last minute, when I still had my duties ahead of me,” he says with a grim smile on his face as the memory of Princess Celestyna’s cunning smile comes and goes. “But in the end, I am glad that I chose to listen to my gut and risk everything for a chance to see you again.”

The smile that you give him alleviates his guilt. Only slightly.

But it is still the same smile that he has been longing to see. So much so that he has been seeing it in his dreams that he suddenly feels the urge to pinch himself just to make sure that this isn’t another dream, taunting him with your presence only to take you away from him so soon.

“And here you are, right when I was just wondering if I should walk away sooner than planned,” you respond to him, much to his relief. A part of him was expecting to see your growing distrust of him, and yet your words hold no adversity in them that it makes him feel almost undeserving of your kindness.

“I am beginning to believe this matter of fate that you spoke of so often, seeing that you were able to find me despite how busy you’ve been.” A soft chuckle slips out of your lips. “I’m amazed that you managed to find me at all.”

Pain pierces through him as he returns your smile. He feels bitter about the fact that he had been the one who spoke of fate intertwining your lives together and yet has become the one defying fate itself. He cannot stop feeling as if he has failed you, and he knows that this feeling will continue to haunt him each time he remembers the disappointed look in your eyes looking back at him.

And he knows that he will disappoint you further by not being able to share his secrets, even if only to answer your curiosity.

“Is it another mercenary work that’s been keeping you away?” you innocently question him, and Yoongi can only bite back his tongue. In a way, it wouldn’t be too off the mark, since he did use his mercenary work as an excuse to stay out of the imperial palace from time to time, or when he needed a break from the Empress’ plot of keeping him close to their royal guests.

It was safer for him to use the mercenary army as an excuse rather than using the magic portals, with the chances of having the Empress planting an eye around him.

“Perhaps,” he sighs, “you can say that.” He hates not being able to tell you the truth, but he also has no way of confessing that his lack of presence in your expeditions has been caused by another. With a tight smile on his face, Yoongi turns to ask you, “Have you been travelling well lately?”

For a moment, you look quite reluctant to answer. At first, Yoongi simply takes it as your hesitance about sharing the secrets behind the magic that you are using. But instead, you choose to share something completely unexpected.

“Not that much, actually. I have been—unwell,” you slowly admit. “After the last time we met in Grimm, I was left bedridden for quite a while.”

His brows rise. “How so?” he asks, feeling uneasy.

Pressing your lips together, you shrug at him. “It seems that I have been using up my mana due to my travelling.”

“Do you mean to say that your means of travel has been draining your mana?” Yoongi asks. His surprise almost caused him to make a slip-up, to show you that he knows by which way you have been travelling to different places.

Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice it as you continue walking. “It may seem so”—a touch of a smile flickers on your face—”although it is just a personal assumption that I made up, seeing that it happened after I came back from travelling.” You stop for a moment, thinking. “Actually, now that I think about it, this kind of exhaustion only happened when I went across to places within Far Far Away.”

Yoongi falls silent as he ponders over this. He cannot figure out why the same magic that empowers him—and one that he has learned to understand and control since he was just a young boy—would be reacting differently towards you. While this explains the reason behind your recent absence, he cannot say that he takes any pleasure in knowing.

Perhaps it would have been better to hear that you had encountered something else getting in the way of you using the portals. Anything else but having your well-being and your safety having been compromised to be the reason for it.

“You never felt the same when you were travelling back to Smotia?”

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head. “Hmmm, I don’t recall that I have. I always felt tired, but it wasn’t as bad as it has been lately.” You stop, furrowing your brows, before turning to him. “Do you think—”

“What?”

Gnawing your lips, you shake your head gently before sharing your thoughts. “It’s just something that I thought of,” you begin to say, still hesitant. “What if, the—magic that I’m using to travel is feeding off my mana?” You turn to him. “Can something like that happen?”

“You mean, it’s using your mana like fuel?” Yoongi asks, raising his brows.

You slowly nod. “Like what oil does to a lamp, or food to humans.”

Humming to himself, Yoongi recalls everything that he has learned about the magic portals. To think of any possible side effects or the possibility of it not taking its powers from the moon—as expected of these types of portals—but from its user instead. Yet he comes up with nothing. Because nothing similar to this has ever happened. Not to him, and certainly not to the Emperor, who used to travel merely through the portals to deal with the empire’s business.

But the truth is, he simply never heard of it.

A random thought suddenly crosses Yoongi’s mind just then.

“In theory, it can happen,” he cautiously says, just as he remembers something that he once learned about magic.

Any form of magic requires a price. A sacrifice is needed to be made to pay for any magic that is pulled out of the realm, used and cast by whoever is summoning them. For the type of magic as strong as the fairy portals, a sacrifice must be made. The Ancient moon fairies, however, had found a way to resolve this.

By borrowing power from the moon, the fairies obtaining the skill to create, open, and use the portals would no longer need to sacrifice a thing. Only to then repay all the powers lent to them by the moon by celebrating the rites during the Runea Luna Eve. This is how it’s been done for centuries, until Yoongi was given the keys to the magic portals.

But could this really be the reason?

Yoongi wonders as he looks at you. Since you are not a fairy such as himself, nor you were born with a fairy blood or a direct connection to the moon, using the magic which belonged to his kind may require you to pay for it with something else. Something valuable.

Your mana. A piece of your heart. Your—lifespan.

Yoongi fists his hands by his side. “Have you talked about this with anyone else?”

“Well, yes.” The crease between your brows deepens, and then you mutter, “Okay, maybe not.” A beat of silence passes, before you correct yourself, “Not really.”

Yoongi says nothing, only that he knows now that you have yet to share your secret with anyone else. No one knows about her using the portals, he muses, surprised with what he just learned. He shouldn’t feel relieved about it, since that only means that you have no one by your side to guide you through it.

But if you still have nobody to talk to about this, if you are still keeping this a secret, then this means he can use this to strengthen the bond he has with you. To gain your trust that has become so fragile from his own doing.

Cocking your head, you innocently ask him, “What are you thinking?”

Yoongi grabs your hand instead of answering directly. He still has to work on finding out the truth about this side-effect before slowly revealing the truth about the portal—that he knows more about it than he is letting on, and that he and his family are the ones behind it. He needs to make sure that you trust him enough before he can.

Because revealing the origin of the portal you are using might risk him losing your trust. It might risk him losing the only link he has to the Wicked King.

“I’m just wondering,” he says, as he begins rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, drawing shivers through your skin, “you mentioned before that this is all new for you. That you are still getting used to your new life in Far Far Away.”

He stops to wait until you respond with a nod before he continues, “Even without having to use magic, travelling within this realm itself can be draining, and you still can’t fully access your magic to begin with.” Looking down at the ground covered in pixie dust, Yoongi points at the glowing lights. “Take a look at how the scattered magic dust is covering the dark, hard ground beneath. Look at it as the realm we are standing in.”

You turn to look at the sparkling magic dust and keep your eyes on it while Yoongi keeps speaking, “There are layers and layers of mana in this realm which—depending on which part of the land you are—may require different levels of mana within yourself to withstand it. For you to be able to ride the energy flow that is present all around you when you are stepping into a new territory.”

Yoongi smiles as he senses you growing more at ease, and that you seem to understand what he is trying to say. “With your magic still restrained, you haven’t been able to put your raw mana to use. At the very least, not in its full potential.”

Your gaze finds his after hearing this, which encourages Yoongi to continue, “So it’s quite possible that your body was weakened due to the insufficient amount of mana you had to boost the power of the magic. And it if had instead begun to feed on your life energy, that might explain why you experience fatigue and why it took longer for your mana to recover.”

An understanding look fills your eyes. “That would make sense,” you mutter softly, and Yoongi can almost hear the wheels in your head turning. He can hear the questions that you have before you even think of voicing them out loud. He knows that—despite your lack of experience with magic—you are smart enough to understand things quickly.

Right when you are about to speak, to question him further—to force him to tell you everything about the portals—Yoongi cuts you off with his own question, “What about your latest trips? I thought you said you had been going back to back while I was away? How are you feeling now?”

Finding out that you are experiencing some side effects from the portals made him feel wary, and it worries him more when he thinks about the constant waves of magic reaching out to him and he was never there. “You know, some people might think that it would be better to avoid anything that was harmful to them,” he tries to joke, “and yet you decided to jump right back into it again the moment you had the chance.”

A grin lifts on the corner of your lips. “You got me,” you softly laugh. “I suppose my curiosity got the better of me. In a way, I wanted to test my theory, and—” You stop for a moment as you recall the past few days—the days that Yoongi would have loved to hear more about in detail—and then shrug a little. “You can say that the circumstances made it hard for me to avoid going on those trips.”

Your gaze flicks back to him. “I might say that fate pointed out the way and I simply followed.” Yoongi returns your smile. “But things are different now.”

“Different? In what way?”

You make a humming sound as you answer, “I’ve been training. Someone—one of my guardians—offered to help me practice controlling my mana, even if I can’t really use it to expel magic.” Yoongi cannot help but smile as you share this. He loves seeing how proud you look, simply from thinking about what you have achieved on your own. The look of excitement for overcoming a challenge and getting yourself ready to try facing another.

“Do you think your training has been helping you, seeing that you are doing quite alright now even after—how busy you’ve been?”

“I’m not quite sure, really,” you admit with a nervous smile, “That’s also why I’ve been waiting to see you. What do you think? Do you reckon my progress may have anything to do with how I’m not sick right now?”

Yoongi considers the option for a moment before nodding. “It might,” he cautiously says, “By having control of your mana, you might have been able to inadvertently prevent your mana from being drained completely while you had your expeditions.”

This answer seems to please you. “Of course, I am not an expert in this type of magic,” he quickly says before you get your hopes up. And it is not a complete lie, as there are real experts back home at Emburn who study this old magic properly that would know better than he does now. And he quickly makes it his mission to find them once he returns. ”I can try and help you look for answers if that can help you.”

Your smile widens. And he suddenly feels like his chest is too tight for his beating heart. “Would you do that for me?” you ask, to which he feels his knees weakening beneath him that he comes to a halt, bringing you close to him as he pulls you gently towards him.

“Anything, little dove,” he murmurs as he gently leans closer. “Even if only to make up for my recent absence and the days that went on without us being able to enjoy our time like this.”

Yoongi is so close. You are so close that he can breathe in the scent of your shampoo and the soft fragrance that you might have dropped onto the curves of your neckline this morning—something sweet and floral and maddeningly luscious—that his entire body grows warm. Before he can stop himself, his hand rises, fingers gently sweeping back some stray strands of hair that keep escaping to your cheek, and your face flushes.

Clearing your throat, you lower your gaze with a bashful smile. “Speaking of places with mana,” you softly speak, a hint of shyness flutters in your voice which pleases him dearly when you ask, “Have you been to a place called Aeris?”

Swallowing hard, Yoongi tries to calm his expression when he answers. “I’ve been there many times. Some of the merchants and barons that have hired me are those who deal with businesses in both realms, that’s why I frequently go to marketplaces like Narlès and Aeris.” He inclines his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you been there recently?” you question him, gnawing your lips as if you aren’t sure to ask.

“Not that I recall, no. I’ve been going to places where people were dealing with various crisis, and I have yet to visit any marketplaces lately.”

You try to hide it, but Yoongi can see a hint of disappointment in your eyes. “I see.”

Yoongi falls silent instead of questioning further. Because he knows why you would ask him about Aeris.

He was unable to leave the Imperial Palace when he felt you visiting the Mage City, so he had to send out the only one he trusted to go in his place and watch over you, making sure that you were safe. Yet it seems that Yijeong has failed to report back to him to let him know that you had caught him, or perhaps felt his presence while shadowing you through the city.

That fool.

Swallowing a frustrated groan, Yoongi reminds himself to be grateful. Despite his recklessness and his lack of trust in you, Yijeong has been there when Yoongi couldn’t. His loyal friend has continued volunteering to take his place, jumping into the magic portal whenever the ripples came calling for Yoongi to follow, all to be able to watch over you and keep you safe while Yoongi was stuck in the Empress’ little ploy.

From the mage city of Aeris to the legendary E’l Alora, the ancient place that is no longer shown on any kind of map, and then to the fallen city of Arselon, where mortals are no longer welcomed after they became casualties of war.

Yoongi cannot imagine what kind of adventures you have been to. Not even Yijeong’s reports were adequate in letting him know what you’ve learned from these expeditions of yours. How much he wishes to be there to witness it. And how inadequate it makes him feel to realise how much he has missed.

“The next time we meet again,” Yoongi gently says, “Tell me everything about your latest journey.”

The smile you give him holds hope and promise. “As long as you share me yours.”

As soon as you’ve made it across the bridge with Yoongi, you come to a halt, hesitant to continue.

You can feel it from a distance; the ripples of magic coming out of the portal, waiting for your return, hidden deep between the trees.

Silently, you wonder if Yoongi can feel it too. For some reason, you know that he can feel it, but he chooses not to show it. Not to say anything. Respecting your need to hold your secret just a bit longer until you can trust him completely with it.

Judging from the way he isn’t making any move to continue, he is respecting your choice by not following you through the woods unless you allow him to.

But keeping your secret and preventing him from following you to find the opened portal is the least of your concerns at this moment. You hate having to say goodbye so soon when you just met him again. Your time together has been too short, you feel like it wasn’t enough.

Yoongi tilts his head, noticing your silence. “Is there something wrong?” he asks, as if he can sense you having an inner battle in your silence.

“I don’t want to say goodbye so soon,” you admit with a quiet whisper.

“Then don’t,” Yoongi says, smiling. “Don’t say goodbye. Not when we’re going to see each other again.”

“Is that true? Will we be able to see each other again?” You cannot help but ask, “I’ve believed that we would, but—”

Taking your hand in his, Yoongi gives it a gentle squeeze. “I promise, whenever you make the jump to travel somewhere, to a new place across the realm or even towards the next realm, I’ll come running to you,” he says with a firm voice, only that you are too afraid to believe him, to hope, after being disappointed the last few times you went and never found yourself crossing paths with him.

“Don’t say such promises as if it is something that you are capable of doing,” you whisper bitterly, looking away.

Still keeping a gentle hold of your hand, Yoongi tilts your chin up with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to him. “As I’ve told you many times before, little dove. I wouldn’t dare make a promise that I’m not sure I can keep,” he whispers as he plays with a few stray strands of your hair before tucking them behind your ear. Just like before, when he did the same and the tips of his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, your body shudders. Your skin grows hot, and you sway on your feet, your body leaning towards him to feel more.

Your eyes flutter to close as you embrace this feeling, yet you quickly open them again, resisting, only so you can look at him longer. But then his face comes closer, almost as if he is leaning for a kiss. “Can you keep that promise?” you force yourself to ask, even when your voice comes out small, almost breathless. “Can you really find a way to know where I am the next time I walk across the realm and be there when I make the jump?”

Yoongi says nothing at first. But the intense way he is looking at you, with no words, only with a gaze that seems tortured, as if he is pained for not being able to say much seems to speak louder than his words would.

“How? How would you be able to do such a thing?”

Instead of answering you, Yoongi only smiles. “Why don’t we make a little deal, you and me?” Yoongi offers instead, “I will tell you the next time we see each other again. Better yet, each time we meet again, I will share with you one secret of mine for you to keep. Something more about myself.”

Sucking a deep breath, you try to calm the flutter building in your chest. And fail. “Promise?” Your voice comes out in a whisper. “And I—” You continue, feeling your throat tightening when you think about all the things you can offer to make this fair. You want to give something back. A piece of you to every piece of himself that he is willing to give you.

Bringing your hand up, you offer him your pinky finger. “Then I’ll share something about myself too when we see each other again.”

Looking up close, Yoongi’s eyes seem to sparkle. Intrigued and pleased, Yoongi’s smile deepens as he entwines his pinky finger around yours and murmurs, “It’s a promise.”

Neither of you makes a move to separate, remaining in this position just a bit longer, staying close with his eyes staring deeply into yours. For a moment, you wonder if he is going to kiss you, as he slowly bends down, his face growing closer, until he suddenly stops with a hesitant smile. “Until we meet again,” he says instead, kissing the back of your hand.

You are filled with a mix of emotions, yet the touch of his lips on your skin makes your heart flutter, soaring with hope.

“Remember,” he whispers, “All you need to do is jump, and I’ll come running to you.”

Despite everything, you know deep down that you can hold onto this promise. You want to believe him, and that is exactly what you say to him in the end before you finally decide to part ways just beyond the last line of trees.

“Will you be okay crossing the woods on your own?” Yoongi asks, still reluctant to let you go into the woods.

“I have my dagger with me, and I know how to defend myself,” you reassure him, and his gaze flickers with knowing, believing that you are telling him the truth. “If all fails, I’ll scream for help.”

Yoongi softly laughs. “I’ll be here,” he says, as he slides his hands into his pockets, as if he is doing so to hold back from reaching out to you. “At least until you make it across.”

You leave him standing by the bridge as you trudge into the thickets, his warm smile becomes the last thing you see when you look over your shoulder one last time, before slipping deeper into the woods and entering the magic portal waiting to take you home. You close your eyes for a brief moment when the magic engulfs you, pulling you through the space in between before you arrive back home. The force of the magic is so strong, that you barely feel it when another ripple of magic follows your departure, coming from somewhere nearby, right before the magic door closes behind you.

The moment you open your eyes again, you are standing in the middle of the quiet corridor back in Stargrave. There is an emptiness in your chest as you walk further away from the ghostly feeling of the magic portal slowly waning behind you as you slowly make your way back to your bedchamber, yet you find no reason to feel any sorrow as you stroll down the empty hallways and into your silent quarter.

Because you've arrived back home not all empty-handed. Not when you have the warmth of a promise filling your heart, the ghost of Yoongi’s touch lingering in your palm, and five pouches of pixie dust in the pocket of your dress.

The day after your last trip, where you got to visit the home of elves and pixies, you remain in the castle instead of allowing your curiosity to take you away once again.

Your father’s keys are secured safely in one of the drawers inside your bedchamber. Out of sight, though not entirely out of mind.

“Take a day off from travelling, especially since you’ve been travelling more frequently as of late,” Yoongi had suggested yesterday, right before you parted ways, right after you made him so obviously worry about your well-being after you shared your recent predicament.

And you have chosen to follow his advice. To preserve your energy and mana until the next time you will be needing it again. Until the next time you see him again.

“And where will you be while I’m gone? Back to your mercenary business?”

Yoongi had given you a tight smile when you asked. Yet his eyes were filled with resolve when he answered, “Perhaps I shall handle my business to make sure they will no longer be in the way of me catching up to you.”

With no plans on escaping the confines of the castle, you spend your afternoon at the terrace on Nanny Abigail’s quarter for some afternoon tea with your governess. It has been a while since you spent some time with her without any agenda hidden under your sleeves—or hers.

Being here also means keeping you away from any possibility of you straying down vacant hallways in the castle and finding cryptic doors with humming spells enchanting you to open.

“It’s quite remarkable to think that on the same day you spent the hour of your dancing lesson stubbing your toes one too many times, you spent the rest of the afternoon sparring with the knights,” Nanny Abigail lifts her eyes from her tea and runs her gaze on your body, perusing briefly before commenting, “and without any injuries on your skin.”

You look up, forcing a smile as you resist the urge to admit that you did gain some injuries. But you choose not to say anything, lest you are to be forced to explain everything. Or worse, to risk causing an innocent royal knight to take the blame.

“How did you find out?” You ask her instead while keeping your voice calm.

Nanny Abigail presses her lips together. A look of displeasure is written all over her face. “Words travel fast in this place. The maids here keep curious eyes on the Princess who had been kept away from the only home she ever knew and is struggling to adjust in this new place,” she says with a wistful tone of voice, as if she has grown tired of the gossips, until she adds, “And those words always come back to me.”

“No wonder I felt like I was constantly being watched.” With an exaggerated sigh, you shake your head and mutter, “And here I thought it was all you.”

Eyebrows raised, Nanny Abigail looks at you with an unamused look on her face. “You think I planted a spy on you?”

You give her a sly grin as you shrug. “Wouldn’t be too surprised if you had. You’ve always seemed to have many eyes looking at me even when you are not around.”

Your governess narrows her eyes at you as she murmurs almost to herself, “Perhaps it’s time I should put a spy on you to make sure you behave like a princess for once.”

The bitter way she says it only makes you laugh, which draws a smile to her face. A fleeting sight to see, that you almost believe you are imagining things, until you hear the sound of her soft chuckle, laughing at her own joke. She expertly hides it behind her cup of tea, keeping her poise as always.

“May I ask you something?” you carefully ask her when a thought comes through your mind. Something has been weighing in your mind lately, and seeing that your governess seems to be in a light mood—enough for her to joke around with you—you figure this might as well be the right time to bring this up.

Nanny Abigail lifts her eyebrows and hums. “I don’t suppose it will stop you from trying if I refuse.”

You roll your eyes. “Glad to know you think so highly of me,” you tease, once again drawing a small smile from her. You take a deep breath before asking, “How well did you know my mother?”

At the mention of your mother, Nanny Abigail’s shoulders grow stiff. She quickly recovers and straightens up as she slowly lowers her cup. She clears her throat before answering, “Well enough to see parts of her in you each time I’m looking at you. It’s like seeing a reflection of her when I look at your face, or listen to you speak.”

Her gaze finds you. The joy in her eyes dims and softens when a smile comes to her face. A smile that is filled with melancholy and a familiar sense of longing. “Might be why it doesn’t surprise me when you are always up to something whenever no one is looking.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Nanny Abigail sighs. “The Queen, your mother, has always been just as mischievous as you are. She has always been like that since she was a child. Always so curious, always questioning and looking for answers, even if it’s the most impossible ones to find.”

You cannot help but smile as you hear this. “How did that go with my father?”

“His Majesty was always worried about her, but what can he do?” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “Not even the most strict rules can stop her from going out to see the world.”

Your back straightens. You have learned from Lord Gordan that you may have some similarities with your mother. You never expected to even share this with her. “She was a traveller.”

Nanny Abigail looks at you, smiling. “And a scholar,” she adds. “That was her true power.” She briefly halts, thinking, before adding, “Well, one of them. Her curiosity is one, and her knowledge is the other. But the most important one that she obtained over the years would be her courage. The one thing that kept pushing her to find more and more knowledge, no matter where and how.”

“This castle is full of books,” you muse, recalling how much the royal library had amazed you the first time you entered it. And it seems that you keep finding more and more books—all the rare ones that have often helped answer your questions—the more you explore deeper. “Was it because my mother loved to learn?”

“Yes, it was. Your mother’s always so fond of books,” Nanny Abigail says with a fond look in her eyes. “I believe she also kept a journal with her. A small notebook where she would keep the things she found and learned through her journeys.”

The conversation halts for a moment as Nanny Abigail pours some more tea into the cups, while your mind wanders. “How did she travel?” you find yourself asking, wondering, to which Nanny Abigail merely scoffs.

“Heavens know. She always had her secrets,” she answers with a soft chuckle. “Mostly, she would disappear hours into the day and come back once evening comes. Sometimes later, looking weary and excited at the same time from whatever adventure she got herself on.”

Furrowing your brows, you think about what she mentioned earlier. “The journal. Have you ever seen it? Have you ever read what she wrote in it?”

Nanny Abigail presses her lips and shakes her head. “No, she used to keep it to herself. Kept it hidden in her bedchamber.” Her gaze seems far away when she continues, “But she would talk about her day as she was writing about it. Sometimes she would do sketches. She would draw the places, the people she met, and the things she saw into these rough sketches for her to keep in her memory, but never once had she ever shown me anything she put down in that journal.”

Talking about your mother and the things they used to do back then brings another smile to her face. And she talks as if the memory is still fresh, that everything is happening in the present instead of the past, that you can almost see it through her eyes, to feel your mother’s presence the way Nanny Abigail is feeling it now. “Besides, even if I ever got a peek at her writing, I wouldn’t have understood it,” she adds.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Your mother’s quite adept with languages. She grew up speaking the language of the elves, and she was learning the native language of the moon fairies when she first began writing in that journal.” Her sigh is filled with longing when she continues, “She left a page on her desk once, something that looked like a letter that fell from the journal. She was quick to hide it, but I remember not recognising the language or the letters that she used. I couldn’t even read her scribbles, since she wrote them so quickly. Perhaps she had done it while on the road.”

She laughs. “I think it’s her way of keeping all the information she wrote a secret, only for certain people to be able to read them.”

You lean forward, getting more and more curious about this journal that your mother had allegedly carried with her. “Do you know where it is now?” you try to ask. “Or is it—is it lost with most of her belongings?”

Nanny Abigail only answers with a resigned sigh. “No one knows. The Queen holds her secrets deeply, even in her absence.” Her gaze finds yours as she raises her cup of tea to her lips. “Just like you do.”

A beat of silence falls. The wheels in your head are turning wildly as you try to connect all the dots. The places you’ve been. The words that were given to you by the people you met.

But then all the puzzling clues you have gathered in your memory scatter when Nanny Abigail suddenly chastises you, “Of all the things you could have been doing in your free time, why did it have to be a sword fight?”

Scoffing, you raise your brows at her. “Are you wishing that I’d be doing embroideries instead?”

“Well, you could need some more work on that, for sure,” she teases, making you laugh.

“Hah! Very funny,” you respond with a chuckle. “But really, I was—” Sighing, you decide to share some truth about what has been troubling you. “I was bored, and I was getting too soft.”

Nanny Abigail gives you an incredulous look. “From dancing?”

“From the lack of physical training,” you bitterly admit, “I don’t think Lord Gordan is brazen enough to defy my father in terms of giving me lessons in fighting.”

You hear Nanny Abigail sighing as she mutters, “As if you still need one.”

“You are good at dancing and yet you still practice when you have the chance.”

Your governess looks at you, saying nothing, but you can tell that she is silently agreeing with you. But the world will end if she ever admits it to your face. “So,” she says after sipping her tea. “Did you win?”

Your lips twist to a sly grin. “What do you think?”

One hour later, you find yourself returning to your quarters after a lazy afternoon. Your bedchamber is quiet, yet your mind is almost as lively as the rapid sound of your heartbeat as you reach for your dresser. Opening the top drawer, you find the set of keys gifted by your father. The magic keys cast silver and golden glow across the drawers and onto your face, the spell hums through the quiet space around you, as if asking why you haven’t reached for them today.

Yet your gaze moves past them, landing on the small bundle that you had carried home with you from the fallen city of Arselon.

You slowly reach for it, lifting the bundle in your hand with precise care—as if the thing will crumble into dust under your fingers. The bundle felt small when Gaia first handed it to you, enough for you to slip it under your cloak when you took it home. With gentle fingers, you pry open the velvet fabric covering it, revealing three small items bound together by a thick, white thread.

The first item is a key; made of steel and mostly covered in rust, reminding you of the iron gate leading towards the forbidden part of the royal garden that you have yet to travel into.

The second is an old folded map; with an inscription on the front cover written in one of the native languages you have been learning from Lady Laurel. Elven tongue.

But what intrigues you the most is the third item. Weighing down on your palm is a small notebook. Small enough to fit in the small sling bag that you often carry with you when you are travelling or into the side pocket of your coat. The leather cover is tainted with ink stains and appears to be slightly worn out by age. The papers seem old and worn, with yellowing edges and some growing crisp and falling apart. Deep down, you have a feeling that you already know what this item is even without having to open it.

“I believe she also kept a journal with her…”

Nanny Abigail’s voice echoes through your head as you gently run the tips of your fingers over the leather covering, finding the small initial embossed into the leather, right at the bottom corner of the front cover.

The inscription is made in a cursive letter, looking almost like a signed autograph marked into the leather coverings so it wouldn’t wear away by the passing of time, and the inscription reads the letter ‘M’.

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stariikis · 7 months ago

Text

𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 | nishimura riki | encafe *₊˚☕୧

↬ rest of the encafe series (ongoing!) synopsis ; following an unexpected encounter with a long-lost friend, riki sparks a fresh connection with a familiar face. and what if he wants something more with you this time, and the boundaries of your friendship extends into unfamiliar territory? (news flash: he’s loving every second with you.)

pairing ; barista!nishimura riki x fem customer!reader genre ; fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual crushing trope ; barista x customer reunited buddies wc ; 4417 warnings ; kissing! reader is very very very oblivious and riki is very in love, they are so cute :(

taglist (open!!) ; @chaseyikis @nikiswifereal27 @llvrhee @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @doyochibubu @jikepi @enwonz @rikihqq

14.02.24 – valentine’s day.

If not for a particular order of caramel macchiato on a cold winter’s day. That’s what Riki likes to think when he looks at you with such a look of adoration you can’t help but cover your face in your hands, cheeks flushing a vibrant pink.

Similar to the wisps of steam rising from atop your coffee mug, you can feel Riki’s love for you swirling in the confines of your heart. Just last winter, your heart whispers, was the moment when he came crashing back into your life. One quick decision to slip into the quaint little coffee shop before work was all it did.

He’s still in his custom designed apron, scooting ever closer at the window seats. And though he remains content in the pin-drop silence, the hand that sneaks up your back speaks on his behalf. Suddenly, you can’t bear to meet his gaze and turn to the cosy view of the dim street.

It’s the definition of a romantic street down a road in London – just in Korea. Cobbled roads lined with streetlamps that have a soft golden glow once sundown approaches. Every once in a while in the darkness, a couple or person donned in light winter wear strolls down past the cafe. And Riki looks over at you with a wistful, longing expression as if he wants to be one of those couples. He wants to go out and dance with you, he wants the flurry whiteness embracing you both at the darkest hour.

He taps your shoulder, enthusiasm glimmering in his eyes, and begins to untie the back of his apron. You carefully sneak a glance at your signature marking its spot on the back of one of the lacings. Your boyfriend had insisted on getting it printed there when you became official, last valentines.

You would never have imagined that the boy, peeping out amidst the craze with a pink, valentine-themed iced drink in his hands and fumbling uncharacteristically for the right words to confess his feelings to you, would be your long-lost childhood friend.

(riki’s pov, 10.12.22)

“Psst. Riki! Pretty girl’s coming up to the counter. Hurry – do something!”

Riki’s coworker nudges him teasingly, noticing his relentless stare on the office worker who has just entered their cafe. It’s not unusual that pretty girls walk in on early weekday mornings like this, but this girl, clearly not a regular, seems familiar somehow. She seems to move in slow motion towards them, and Riki has to put down the ceramic cup he’s holding before it inevitably falls to his feet.

While it may be an exaggeration to say, her chic grey office clothes seem to sparkle in the minimal lighting. Her brown hair also seems to swish like time has slowed, blonde streaks evident when she tosses her locks. Long eyelashes, a petite nose and strawberry freckles that Riki could spot from a mile away. It’s like he’s met her before. A memory is fighting its way to the surface of his mind, but his efforts are useless when the girl continues to walk up to the counter.

His mind keeps going completely blank.

Sunoo drags him by the hand towards the cashier area, raising his eyebrows and giving him a knowing look. When Riki finally snaps out of his mesmerised daze and turns to protest, Sunoo has already taken over the order he was preparing. Gulping, Riki turns to meet the girl in the eye. Or more like past her eyes, because he barely feels enough strength to meet her gaze. He’ll probably faint.

The idea that he knew her in the past keeps popping up in his head, but he repeatedly shoves the thought down. He’s probably intensely attracted to her, and it’s making him think he has history with her. Which isn’t really a good thing at the moment, with his throat dried up and Sunoo sneaking peeks over to see how he’s doing.

“U-Um, what would you like to order?”

The girl leans in and laughs. There’s a sick, uneasy feeling brewing in Riki’s stomach as she does so, because the memory he’s been trying to uncover is slowly emerging from the back of his mind. She recovers from the bout of laughter, still smiling, and when she opens her mouth to speak, Riki remembers.

“Your sciences are pretty good, Riki, are you planning to pursue them in the future?” A fourteen-year-old version of the girl standing in front of the counter asks.

Riki replies sheepishly, taking his report card off y/n’s table before others in the class have the chance to see. “Actually, no.”

“Really?” She tilts her head, hunches over and laughs. “Don’t tell me you want to be an artist or something. But actually that would be pretty cool.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Riki looks away from her gaze. He knows she’s not the type to judge, but he doesn’t like when people jab at his interests and prides. And y/n seems to find even the littlest things funny – she has the habit of leaning in and laughing when she finds something amusing.

“I won’t, pinky promise.”

“Why are you laughing?”

Finally, Riki can muster the courage to talk to this ‘mystery girl’ now that he remembers her and knows her name. It has to be her, and it can’t be anybody else. There’s only one girl he used to know with chocolate hazelnut eyes, the bad habit of rumpling her own hair every few seconds (she got it from him), and a height she deems short enough to require heels everyday to work.

She’s back. When did she fly back from Japan? When did she get a corporate job? When did she dye streaks into her hair like she said she wanted when they were younger?

“No reason, you just seem frightened.” She – y/n – giggles and Riki swears her head leans in towards him once again.

He grins. “Why would I be?” Liar, liar, liar, liar liar liar liar liar– “Anyway, what would you like to order?”

“Hmm. It’s cold out. Why don’t you surprise me with a warm drink?” Playful as always. This is undeniably y/n. But she seems as if she doesn’t know it yet. Has she erased Riki from her memory or is she pretending to not recognise him? His nametag states his name clearly. His facial features haven’t changed much since then.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” Riki tests, for her answer. I won’t, pinky promise.

It’s what Riki expects her to say. Or, more accurately, what he desperately hopes she’ll say. His stomach drops with the possibility that this might be the last time he ever sees her. If she fails to realise he’s her long-lost best friend from their teenage years, will she ever show up in this cafe ever again?

The face-framing strands of her hair flutter as she nods earnestly. “I won’t.”

This is going to be hard to work with.

“Okay, then, why don’t you take a seat? I’ll surprise you with a custom order.” He winks at her, the only flirtatious move he feels comfortable executing. “Shall the name I put on the order be y/n?”

“How’d you know?” The girl purses her lips and looks at him curiously.

She still doesn’t realise? Just how much has she erased from her memory?

“U-Uh…” He scans her for any hints or labels. Luckily, her corporate key card is strung over the straps of her bag, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he points shakily its way. Y/n follows his gaze and gasps cutely when she notices.

A fantasy of a scene.

When she finds herself a seat by the window, partially hidden through numerous wisps of smoke rising off coffee mugs, Riki finds his heart aches the same way it did all those years ago.

With the pain that came with leaving her for the first time, he hopes she won’t leave forever for the second time. He turns to where Sunoo is grinding coffee beans, fully concentrated. He doesn’t even look up when he asks,

“So, what’s the order?”

Riki’s voice cracks when he replies. “Caramel macchiato.”

What a teenage dream.

“Order for y/n,” Riki calls gently, one hand holding a tray with her hot drink and the other hand reaching out to tap her shoulder. She unplugs the earphones from her ears and blinks warmly at him. Just as warm as the coffee Riki quietly prepared and snuck an extra shot of caramel in.

“Oooh,” she giggles and claps her hands. “What’s the surprise drink?”

“Try it,” Riki pushes the tray closer to her and raises his chin. Subtly, he also takes a seat beside her, while his mind unhelpfully screams, notice the nametag, notice my name, notice my face, notice me!

But instead of looking at him, she carefully blows on her coffee and takes a sip. The face she makes instantly after is so vague he doesn’t know whether she loves it or absolutely despises it, never to return again.

“Who made this?” Her expression still refuses to give anything away.

Panicking in the split second of a moment, Riki blurts his coworker’s name. “Sunoo. There.”

“Ohhh, it’s really good! Thank him for m–”

“I did the foam art!” Once again, Riki lets his mouth run loose and internally smacks himself hard when he gestures towards the heart-shaped imprint in the sea of white. The girl stares at him for half a second before bursting into laughter again. She leans in close and places a hand on his shoulder.

‘How did you guys know that caramel’s my favourite?”

“I want to be a barista.”

“What? Really?”

Teenage Riki scratches the back of his head and nods. Accompanying his mother to her coffee shop on their ‘bring your child to work day’ was enough to lock in his love for the pleasant aroma of caffeine. He particularly enjoyed creating his own versions of cafe-art. He’s born to be creative, a natural artist at heart. Lab experiments and hypotheses may be his strong suit, but all he wants is to express himself with the tasty remnants of coffee beans and cocoa.

“Will you make me a drink then?” Y/n smiles brightly. She doesn’t seem to be weirded out by the unusual career choice. Instead, she’s beaming as if it’s a normal occurrence for a top student to want to live a peaceful life at a cafe. “A test run for you.” “Sure,” Riki plays along, his heartstrings tugging seeing her contagious excitement. “What drink would you like? I’ll make it when you come over today.”

“Hmmm.. make me a caramel macchiato. Nowadays, it’s my comfort drink.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, Riki,” She calls as he heads back towards his seat before the next lesson. He whips his head around, raising his eyebrows. “For the record, I think baristas are cool.”

“It’s a customer favourite in autumn and winter,” Riki lies through his teeth. He doesn’t even stutter once – how commendable. “It’s practically our house special.”

“Mannn, I thought I’d be special,” she jokes, finishing up her coffee in a few quick sips. “Augh, that’s hot. Anyway, I gotta go to work, I think I’m late.”

Her eyes widen and she checks her watch.

“Shoot, I really am. Okay, bye, see you!”

She waves and darts out the store before RIki can say anything more. Is it odd that all he worries about is the way she’s dressed in the blistering cold? She really needs to bring a padded jacket around.

Days turn into weeks, and it comes as a surprise to Riki when y/n shows up the next day. And the next. And the subsequent days. She comes to get the same order every day, the same personalised cup of coffee with Riki’s signature foam heart. Little does she know, though, the whole cup is made by him, with love. Not Sunoo, not another coworker, not following a standard cafe recipe.

Around Christmastime, Riki snags her socials. When she finally learns about his name, tagged to all his accounts, she merely tilts her head as if its clogged. “Why does your name sound familiar to me? Ehh, must be deja vu. I’m getting it a lot these days.”

Yeah, deja vu, Riki thinks, scrolling through all her pictures of every single cup of coffee she’s ever had from the cafe. It’s like a daily update, and she posts nothing else apart from occasional group pictures and selfies. I’m just a disconcerting feeling to you.

(y/n’s pov, 14.01.23)

There’s a number of things that are off about today. One of which, is the way Riki doesn’t greet you at the counter as you walk in. His coworker does instead, the one who you remember Riki pointed out to have prepared your caramel macchiato. Another unsettling thing that can’t be helped is the way you have to order manually instead of Riki smiling and keying in your order without a word needed to be said.

When you receive your beverage, the barista doesn’t sit down beside you to engage in small talk. The curls of steam don’t clear to reveal a heart print in the foam. Rather, it’s a traditional cafe leaf, grains of cocoa flecked on the froth with no emotion whatsoever. And usually, Riki has a way with his words to manipulate time into travelling faster. In a few seconds you finish your drink and head to work like routine suggests.

Today, everything is different.

When you hesitantly take a sip out of your coffee, you cringe. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s not the same. Without Riki’s latte art, the taste can’t have changed that much, could it? Or did the cafe decide to revamp their recipes? And just what happened to Riki?

The next day, you’re secretly hoping he’s behind the counter laughing with his coworkers like normal. But he isn’t. And so you begrudgingly order your caramel macchiato, to go, and leave with hope for tomorrow.

Third time’s the charm – but not today. Riki still hasn’t come back, your coffee tastes like wet dirt (it’s not even that bad, but you’re not used to it. Why doesn’t it taste as sweet as it used to?) and it’s another unordinary day.

It’s what constitutes the change from this cafe to the newer one closer to her workplace, down the street from it and next to a popular florist. There’s an ache in your heart, perhaps because you don’t like changes. Perhaps because you’ll miss the comfort of frosted windows and small talk. Or perhaps because you’ll miss Riki.

(riki’s pov, 21.01.23)

“What do you mean she doesn’t come anymore?”

Riki’s heart drops all the way down to his feet, and Sunoo looks at him with a mixture of guilt and sympathy. “After she tried my coffee, she pulled a face. I’ve never had my pride shattered like that.”

“And a few days later, she didn’t come back. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you first…”

Sunoo’s words drown in his thoughts as he pulls out his phone and checks her socials. She is bound to have posted something about it. Either that, or post pictures of her coffee from whatever new cafe she might be purchasing from. And true enough, her page displays jungle-green coffee mugs with drizzles of caramel atop the foam.

“Oh, isn’t that the new branch further downtown?” Sunoo’s voice suddenly penetrates through his train of thoughts once more. “I think Sunghoon hyung’s starting his job there soon.”

“How do I work there?” Riki leans against the counter and mutters without hesitation. “How do I take a shift there?”

Another coughing bout attacks him before Sunoo can answer. Stupid flu, if he had never caught the illness he wouldn’t have to scheme some kind of master plot to be able to see y/n again. He blames her too, of course, for not telling him, but he blames his white blood cells first.

“What’s this about wanting to take a shift where?”

Riki, recognising his boss’s voice, whips around and practically falls to his knees. He doesn’t really, it’s embarrassing, but he feels like he’s grovelling in some way or another. “Heeseung-nim. Please let me take a shift at the new branch tomorrow morning. I can take someone’s place if they’re sick – I’ll even do restocking.”

“Restocking. How mundane. You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” Sunoo whispers in his ear, and Riki shoves him aside with eyes only for Heeseung.

“Please!”

Fortunately, his boss just huffs in amusement. “You’re ridiculous. I’ll ask if there are any slots you can take as a cashier or waiter.”

“You’re the best, hyu- Heeseung-nim!”

The next day, Riki wishes he could replay the astonished face y/n makes when she walks through the doors and sees him immediately. “Deja vu, huh?”

To the confusion of the other workers on shift at the time, he takes over the whole order, insisting he knows what he’s doing. They don’t bother to argue with him though, when they see the latte art he makes. The prominent heart shape says all the words he never did. Holds the explanation that was never necessary. A man in love is not be interfered with en route to his destination.

“Why did you change cafes?” Riki sighs, trying to act nonchalant as he pushes the tray in front of her face. As she reaches out to pick up the cup, he grabs her hand and shakes his head. “Answer me first.” Her eyes grow wide, cheeks flushing slightly. But she turns to face him properly, looking nervous as she tries to explain herself. “I think the cafe changed the recipe of the caramel macchiato or something… and you didn’t come for days… so I just decided..”

“I don’t come for a few days because I’m sick and you disappear?” Riki can’t help but tease, his heart beating in his ears. “You’re funny.”

She looks shocked at this revelation but giggles to herself, body leaning in towards him.

“The coffee didn’t taste the same either. Even though the hands who prepared it were the same, I clearly saw your coworker making my coffee. And I’m not saying it’s because of this, but there wasn’t your signature foam art, and I kinda missed it.” She gestures towards the cup. And Riki can’t take it anymore.

His lip trembles as he bursts out, “That’s because it wasn’t Sunoo hyung who prepared the drinks for you. On the first day, I made your drink. I added an extra shot of caramel because I knew you liked it. I deliberately took care of your order myself.” And you still don’t know why, to this day. You don’t remember me at all. Of course, at the airport, I was the one crying ugly tears, wishing you weren’t going. I wanted one more chance. I knew you didn’t like me back, and it felt like you never would.

Now that you’re back, how am I supposed to let you go again?

“Come back to our cafe. I’ll be there. I’ll make the caramel macchiato like you like, and I’ll even design custom latte arts on your coffees.” By the end of his outburst, he’s wiping his sweaty hands on his apron, scared to hear her answer. Will she say yes and let things return to how they usually were? Or would she reject him and tell him she was fine without him all along?

“Okay,” she smiles and it reaches her choco-hazel eyes. “I’ll see you there tomorrow, then. But I have to rush, I’ve got a movie I want to see.”

Oh? A movie? Isn’t this perfect to…

“Is it the new Disney one?” Riki blinks earnestly when she nods. “I’ve really wanted to see that too!”

“Why don’t you come with me, then? I’m going alone, since all my friends are busy and tomorrow’s the last day it’s in theatres.”

Consider Riki the luckiest boy in the world.

“I’ve got something to show you,” Riki whispers, in the pitch-black darkness of the back of the movie theatre. The movie has just ended, but all Riki remembers is the way y/n laughs and coos at the animations and characters. He only recalls his reaction to seeing her in such a whimsical dress as she walked into the cafe on a Saturday morning. Thin, soft pink ribbons holding her french plaits together, accentuating the doll image she wanted.

All he wants is to finally make her his. He wants to be able to call her beautiful without sounding like a creep. He wants to be the reason why she wakes up and stops by the cafe every weekday morning. Though he has an inkling that he already is, and she just doesn’t want to admit it.

“What is it?”

Her eyes. They gleam even in the utter darkness. How is that possible? She’s like a materialisation of a fairy from a fantasy story.

His voice wavers as he says, “let’s head out first.”

“Okay…”

She follows him out the theatre, and they head back towards the cafe. Riki’s glad he’s not on shift today, otherwise Heeseung would definitely have his head off. All the way back, he fiddles with his wallet, which holds the photograph of truth.

“I don’t want you to go…” On the 8th of December in 2017, Riki waits by the airport barricades and wipes his snot away when y/n leans in to hug him goodbye. “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long, I promise.” Tears well up in her eyes upon seeing her best friend in this state. “I believe we’ll see each other again, if it’s truly fate.”

Riki’s mother, heart aching at the exchange, steps back and suggests, “let me take a picture of you both for you both to remember, okay?”

Riki doesn’t notice the flash between sobs.

When they reach the cafe, Riki sits y/n down at her favourite window seat and puts the very same photograph in her palms. He awaits with bated breath for her response, but she just remains silent. He doesn’t know if she’s breathing anymore, either.

Finally, after nearly a minute has passed, she looks up with a glaze over her eyes.

“It wasn’t just deja vu, was it?” Riki doesn’t know how he manages to tease her even in this tender moment. She gasps like what he says is scandalous, before pulling him in close to hug him. For a few moments, they remain this way, Riki wondering whether she can hear his heart pounding as if it’s going to shatter his ribcage.

Even if she does, though, she says nothing of it.

“So I was right,” she murmurs, pulling away from the hug. Her cheeks are smudged with wetness. “I was right like I always used to be. Idiot.”

He cocks his head, bemused.

“It’s destiny. I said we’d meet again if fate aligned, and it did.”

Like the north and south poles of two magnets, they’ve found their way back to each other. It’s like a fever dream.

(y/n’s pov, 14.02.23)

There’s no way Riki would ask you to come to the cafe at 12pm sharp for no reason, right? In the middle of a huge crowd, no less, knocked right and left from the couples who are here for a Valentine’s date. You have a feeling that a confession is awaiting you, but how does a confession come about without the confessor?

You continue to stand in the middle of the crowd in your carefully selected pink dress, white laced leg warmers adorning your calves to keep you warm. Riki’s always very adamant about you staying warm, so you put on extra layers to please him even if you’re not cold. Otherwise, he’s bound to smother you with jackets and sweaters.

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Riki rushing over to you with an iced pink drink in his hands. It’s the first time he’s ever prepared an iced drink for you, considering you’ve only experienced winter season together. He looks regretful about this, staring down at his carelessly tied apron for comfort.

“Sorry I didn’t make it a warm drink, I wanted you to be able to see the pink. And I can’t put hot drinks into the plastic cups… obviously…” He rambles, holding the drink out for you. Just as you fish out your wallet to pay him, laughing all the while because of how cute he looks in the moment, he shakes his head. “Oh, it’s on the house.”

“That’s not legally right,” you stick your tongue out at him and pull out a five-dollar-note in spite. His hand comes up, but as you think he’s going in for the note, he grabs your wrist and tugs you close to him instead. He angles his head and his eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. Drink still in his other hand. He drops your wrist and pulls your waist instead.

Breathless when he pulls away, he whispers, looking deep into your eyes, “if you go out with me, it counts as the couple special. Be my girlfriend.”

You bet your cheeks are as pink as the drink Riki prepared for you when he goes in for another kiss.

13 February 2015

“Do you like anyone?”

Ten-year-old Riki poses his very important question to you as he hangs from the monkey bars. You take a while to think, but eventually can’t come up with a name that’s worthy enough to be considered your crush. “Nope! You?”

“I think so.”

“Really? Who is it?”

Riki makes a hushing face as his way of telling you he’s not ready to reveal his secret. “I know tomorrow is Valentine’s day, but I think we should grow up first before I tell her.”

“Awwww, will you at least give me a hint?” You beg, oblivious that the girl of Riki’s dreams is you. It has always been you. He smiles softly and shakes his head no.

He drops down from the monkey bars and comes to sit by your side on the grass. “I’m very close to her. I think one of these Valentine’s, I’ll tell her. Isn’t that romantic?”

“Man, I hope she doesn’t steal you away from me. We’re best friends, you’ll remember that, right? You promise?”

“I will. Pinky promise, chocolate sprinkles on top.”

↬ rest of the encafe series

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